


we're running on fumes but we'll make it through the night

by timeespaceandpixiedust



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 121,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeespaceandpixiedust/pseuds/timeespaceandpixiedust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both of them were alone. Neither of them were looking for someone to fix that.</p>
<p>Or the Raven Reyes and Kyle Wick modern day AU that no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Running Girl

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what my deal is but I am mildly obsessed with this couple. I've read all existing fanfiction for the two of them that I could find and was starved for something else. Hence this fic I've cooked up over the last few days. I don't know exactly how long this will be yet, it seems I'm incapable of writing anything that isn't the length of a Harry Potter novel, but I hope some of you will be willing to come along for the ride. Chapters will have alternating POVs.
> 
> This is the prologue and opens in Wick's POV

Coincidences were the strangest part of life. Kyle Wick had never been one to put a lot of stock in fate. Certain events played out that left him scratching his head, sometimes quirked him to the dubious side of things, but never had he been fully swayed.

 

So even though the odds of seeing the same person over and over in Newark, Delaware might not be astronomically high, he didn’t question it too much. There were just certain people who stood out in a person’s mind. See them once and they won’t be forgotten, regardless of interaction. And perhaps 90% of these people consisted of pretty girls, but that wasn’t what was important here.

 

All he knew was that this particular pretty girl kept popping up. She was nothing short of gorgeous, but his interactions had remained less than regular. So her recurrence raised a few questions and a fair bit of hope.

 

The first time he remembered seeing her was in his neighbourhood. She was all long strides and swinging ponytail as she ran past his house for the first time. He appreciated her speed and focus; she barely even spared him a glance. For the next three years he saw her periodically running past him, out his car window, and so often right in front of him. Shortly after her first appearance she is joined by a floppy haired boy who trudged along behind her, red faced and seeming rather unenthused on the experience as a whole. She would turn around and run backwards, egging him on.

 

Wick ran too, somewhat inspired by the pretty girl with the long legs that she didn’t bother covering up until it was mid-December, but he was never as fast as her. Odds were he could run circles around the floppy haired boy, though.

 

The summer before his last semester at university is when she starts running alone again. Aside from her lack of partner, nothing seems different. On a particularly cold day in November, Wick is out for his own run when she darts past him, her feet carrying her faster than a leaf through the wind. In his experience there were only two things that could get someone to run that fast: fear and anger.

 

He did his best to keep up with her that day.

 

She was gone before he so much as gained an inch on her.

 

After that she’s gone. He blames the bitter cold at first, Delaware hadn’t seen such a cold winter since his sophomore year of high school, but then spring comes and the trees bud and flip-flops become acceptable footwear again, and she is still nowhere to be seen.

 

The next time he does see her is after he’s finished college, July has just come and gone in the span of a blink when he lands his first job at the local hospital. It’s nothing spectacular, but he’s getting paid. He gets to work on grounding and static controls in surgical rooms and precision temperatures for special cases. His favourite was working with ultra-pure gas flows.

 

The running girl has long since been forgotten when he’s working the graveyard shift at the hospital in September, eyes heavy and muscles tired. He was on his way back from the lab after working in a room requiring negative pressure. The cry that he hears feels like it shakes the foundation of the building itself. A desperate, mourning ‘no’ that shatters the hearts of anyone unfortunate enough to hear it. The noise pierces the air and seals it shut with fervent agony.

 

His feet set off running in the direction of the cry before he thinks twice about it. That was not the sound that came from someone who was okay. He runs right into the surgical waiting room, stopping just short of the doorway to see her.

 

The running girl doubled over in someone’s arms as they try to hold her up. She crumples to the floor, the boy going down with her. A blond stands away from the two of them, scratches across her face and her left arm cradled against her body. The guilt is clear on her face as the boy on the floor looks to her. She hangs her head and walks away, right past Wick without so much as a glance. A few others are in the waiting room too, though none of them make a move one way or the other.

 

Seeing that she’s not crying alone, Wick forces himself to turn and walk away. He was familiar with the emotions that brought about that sort of tormented cry; they weren’t the kind seeking the comfort of strangers.

 

The sound reverberates in his mind all night, blocking out all the extraneous sounds of a late night hospital. He sits in the lab and stares off into space, trying to forget the atrocious cry and quivering face. So when seven AM finally announces itself Wick finds himself taking the stairs back to the second floor and walking straight to the surgical waiting area.

 

Sure enough the running girl is still there. Another dark haired girl sits there with her, though she’s passed out, her feet thrown over the arm rest of a chair and her head lolling against the wall.

 

The runner stares off into the void, eyes fixated on the blank wall and hands resting in her lap. This is the first time he notices the brace on her knee. Its extensive and not like something he’s seen before. Though it doesn’t matter, he realises this is why the running girl no longer runs.

 

He walks up to her and offers what he has; a cup of ice water and a small box of tissues may not be much, but they were something. Her eyes take a moment to shift off the wall and onto his hands before slowly panning up to his face. He sees no recognition, not that he expected any, but it’s as though she barely see him at all. The blank stare is almost as worrying as the redness of her eyes. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she’d burst some blood vessels. “You should drink something,” he says, his voice gruff with sleep. “Crying dehydrates you more than you think.” He wished he didn’t know this information through first-hand experience.

 

He stretches his offering to her just a little bit further before she reaches out to take the cup and tissues, her eyes watching him wearily the whole time. And then that’s it. She doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t know what else he has to offer. So he does his best to give her a weak smile before turning and walking away, knowing very well that when she thinks back to what is probably the worst day of her life he won’t be remembered in the slightest.

 

The kindnesses that take place during tragedy are appreciated, but not necessarily recalled. The fog hangs over each memory, sadness taking the place of any other moment.

 

Her loss shouldn’t get to him like it does, but he drives back to his apartment and has to fight away the demons of loneliness that haunt him through each hallway before he collapses into bed and falls asleep. Each dream opens with a jog and is punctuated with a desperate “No.”

 

Kyle Wick no longer remembers the running girl just because she’s pretty.

 

It’s a damn shame.


	2. Coincidences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick is stuck on a girl but likes to pretend he isn't.

**Wick's POV**

November rolls in on a cold wind and hovers in the Newark area in varying layers of intensity from there on out. The first snowfall is two weeks before December and half the state is in a frenzy over the inch of frozen water clinging to their front lawns in speckled white. The local Newark County Hospital is on the panicking side of things.

 

That’s how Wick finds himself at work for the third night in a row. Apparently his co-worker Miller just couldn’t dare go out in this _horrendous_ winter storm. Kyle grumbles to himself the whole ride to work and clocks in with a little too much aggression directed toward the timeclock. It’s not that he actually had anything better to do necessarily. It’s just that doing nothing was better than being here on his supposed night off.

 

Staying up wasn’t what bothered him, that was an old skill he’d acquired back in college. It was the lack of activity that occurred on the overnight shift. He was the only one there so sure, any event that requried attention between the hours of seven p.m. and seven a.m. were entirely his to take care of. Unfortunately, the events requiring the attention of an overnight chemical engineer were very limited. He got called for mechanical duties more than anything else. Sometimes he attended to those problems just for shits and giggles.

 

It’s just after three in the morning when he decides he can’t take another damn second of doing nothing. The phone had rung only once all night and he’d barely had to do a thing to correct the problem. He stands and stretches, pausing the current movie playing off his phone. Pocketing his work phone, he slips out of the nearly empty lab and into the even emptier hallway.

 

He patrols around, walking through each floor and making small talk with all the familiar faces he happened upon. He helps mop a patient’s room for EVS and puts a new armband on a patient for the nurse. Pretty much any work he can find he does. Some might consider this selfless or helpful. It was just his way of staving off boredom.

 

As he makes his way down to the first floor he doesn’t waste a second before breaking into a light jog to catch up to the girl with a limp. Her pace was slow and arduous, an armful of paper reams being balanced with each step.

 

“Hey, let me help you,” he says just as he catches up. He gets the first glance of her just as the words have left his mouth.

 

Wick really wishes that he still looked at her and immediately thought the pretty girl or the runner,instead he hears her resounding ‘No’ cycling through his nightmares again and again.

 

Doing his best to smile he offers his hand out to take some of her armload. “I got it,” is all she says in response before turning back in the direction she was going and walking off again.

 

For a brief moment his eyes are drawn back to the brace on her knee as she walks past him. It was defintiely an intricate design, but it left her unable to bend her knee more than a few degrees. Her limp was prominent and he felt sorry for the girl who used to run circles around his neighbourhood before he could so much as jog a mile.

 

Seeing nothing to lose, Wick follows after her, falling into step beside her. “I’m sure you do, but I’ll have you know I am excellent at carrying things.”

 

She rolls her eyes and keeps walking. “And I’m not interested.”

 

“In my carrying abilities?” he questions with great offense colouring his tone.

 

The thing about the overnight shift is that usually his fellow co-workers were starved for any form of human interaction, any sort of joke to get them through a few more minutes of the shift. It didn’t take much to draw a smile out of someone. His dull nights were brightened by the ability to make at least a few people laugh. Apparently this particular girl was not willing to participate.

 

She reaches the double doors that lead out to the admitting office and she stands, eyes shifting between the scanner she needed to swipe her badge across and the door handle she needed to pull down. “Ah, I trust you’re a little more intersted now.”

 

The answering sigh is irritated but he swears her lips quirk. “I’m interested in as to why you’re following me.”

 

“Excuse you, Ms…” he glances to her name tag. “Raven, but I am trying to uphold the duties which were regrettably placed upon me the very day I graced this Earth with my stupendous carrying skills.”

 

There’s a beat of silence before she answers with, “You’re an actual idiot.”

 

“Hey!” he shouts, hand over his heart. “You wound me, Raven.” She nearly cracks a smile, perhaps in his expense, but that isn’t the important part. In return for her almost smile Wick takes his own badge and swipes it across and then pulls the handle down and holds the door open for her.

 

She walks through, a bit grudginly, but still. “I don’t need your help.”

 

“Never said you did,” he says with a shrug as she carries her stack of paper reams over to the filing cabinet and begins stocking it. “So, you work here long?”

 

Turning in exasperation, Raven looks as if she can’t believe he’s still standing there, talking. “About a month now,” she grumbles through clenched teeth as all of her weight shifts to her good leg and she reaches on tiptoes to stack the last ream of paper. Her balance falters only for a second before she settles gracefully back onto her flat feet. “How about you?” she opens, taking a seat behind the desk. “Stalk people often?”

 

“Oh come on!” he cries, hands being thrown in the air. “You’re a pain in the ass, I’m calling it.” _That_ is what finally gets her to crack a smile.

 

“I know what you are but what am I?” she taunts, the joking obvious in her tone but the words still juvenile enough that Wick can’t help but roll his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry but you forgot to stick your tongue out. I just can’t be offended with a half assed attempt like that.” Shaking his head as if he’s disappointed Wick takes a seat in the chair opposite of her desk. She raises an eyebrow but then just fixes her gaze on the computer.

 

But of course, after working a near thirty six hours in the last three days with little to no event, this is the moment his phone rings, annoucning an actual job to be done. He’s half tempted to scribble his number down and present it to her, but his pride gets the better of him. “Alas, my remarkable carrying skills are being called upon once again.” She simply blinks back at him as he stands. “I’ll see you around?” He hadn’t intended for it to come out as a question.

 

“I’ll be sure to contact you next time I need paper,” she retorts.

 

He offers her a thumbs up in response and turns to disappear back through the doors to the hospital, smacking his forehead as soon as he’s out of her view. Thumbs up were not the appropriate response to _anything._ Let alone a lame flirting attempt.

 

At least she no longer had to be the pretty/running/crying girl. Now she was just Raven. Maybe now the universe would stop arranging him to see her everywhere. Not that the universe had anything to do with it anyway. It was just a coincidence.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Resentment. That’s what Kyle feels when, after being off for five days in a row, he is switched from his usual night shift to a day shift in order to cover someone’s impromptu sick time. (Who even got Lupus? How was that even real?) It’s not like he’s been waiting to work again just to see Raven, that would be weird. It was hardly his fault if coincidence befell him once again. After all, they did work in the same place at the same time. Or at least were supposed to.

 

Unless of course the universe decided to provide the opposite of the coincidence that he wanted and instead prevent him from ever seeing her again.At least, that was how he felt after receiving the call that his shifts were being changed for the next week.

 

 Six a.m. is an ugly fate when one is used to working all night, but he deals with it, maintaining his usual cheerful self and enjoying  the opportunity to really do some work.

 

Once the week is through though, Wick is unbelievably grateful when he gets switched back to his night shifts. It wasn’t _just_ about the girl, she barely even crossed his mind, but he finds he likes the solitude of the night shift and the sleep schedule he’d adjusted to had been hard to switch back. Also maybe it was a little bit about the grumpy who girl who didn’t smile enough. After all, there’d been too many coincidences leaidng up to this for it all to just…fall away.

 

So his first night back he’s buzzing even without any of his usual caffeine. Any person who said they worked overnights and never drank coffee or Red Bull was a dirty liar. Tonight he somehow became that person. All of his work is finished before the day has even changed and he’s left twidling his thumbs in the lab, watching some action flick off of Netflix while Monty runs urine tox screenings across the room. He was the new kid who had just started working for the lab. He was technically still in training and, from the looks of him, should be getting dodgeballs chucked at his head on a regular basis. In his defense, he was a good worker and some surprisingly good company. Though Wick was fairly certain that he was not qualified to be working a shift completely alone. At least, the amount of questions he asked would indicate that.

 

Finally one a.m. hits and Kyle decides that’s late enough to start some innocent wandering. He shoves his phone and his badge in his pocket, tells Monty he’ll be back later, and starts to make his rounds. Harper in EVS is glad to see him, holding out a set of sheets to make a hospital bed. He makes quick work of that and then carries on to small talk with the nurse Jackson. Wick’s eyes shift more than usual during their conversation, looking for someone in particular.

 

He takes the stairs two at a time down to the first floor, hand swiping his hair back as he pulls open the door and slows his slight jog to a walk. It wasn’t even that he liked this girl, necessarily, but she definitely piqued his interest. He’d seen her so many times in a variety of settings. It would be rude to the universe to not bother pursuing her in the slightest.

 

She isn’t anywhere to be found in the hallways so he swipes his badge and walks out to where her desk is located, a loose grin already forming on his face. The person sitting behind the desk is an unfamiliar one, though.

 

“Can I help you?” the boy asks, sitting up straighter and appearing a little too eager to offer assistance.

 

Wick contemplates whether or not he should say anything for a minute. He hardly wanted Raven to hear about him nosing around in search for her. But after a long week and a half of waiting, it would be a shame not to at least inquire. “Is Raven here tonight?”

 

The boy shakes his head, slumping back into his seat. “Nah, I’m filling in for her.”

 

Nodding in response, Wick turns to walk back from where he had come. “Is she okay?” he asks before he can stop himself.

 

“I don’t really know. She said she had some sort of family emergency.” The kid behind the desk doesn’t offer anything else. Kyle isn’t about to pry any further. “Want me to tell her you were looking for her?” he asks as Wick opens the door.

 

“Don’t bother,” he says with a wave  of his hand. “I’ll catch her another night.”

 

He hopes there is truth in those words.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for those who have shown interest so far. Still working on figuring out how to write these two but hopefully I'll pick it up soon! Other characters will show up over time, I promise.
> 
> Anyone interested in following me on tumblr can do so here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/timespaceandpixiedust


	3. Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven wants to be alone (but really doesn't).

**Raven**

 

Raven had never been a big fan of having other people in her business.

 

It was one thing when it had been Finn, he was sort of a given. But there had been no one in addition to him, and now, no one after him. His loss had not left her feeling inclined to change anything.

 

Sure, she had friends. In high school she’d even been somewhat popular, a bit of a party girl in her younger years. She’d never had any reservations about dancing in the middle of a crowded living room or diving into a dark pool in just her underwear. Finn was always there to look after her anyways, she’d had a backup. But those days were over. The friends had stuck around but the good times were long gone.

 

On occasion she still saw them. Bellamy was classic for stopping at the grocery store and forcing her into an elongated conversation or inviting her out with the gang whenever he had the chance. Clarke had paid special attention right after Finn’s death, trying to coax Raven over to her house or out to the movies. It had been nice, though now that Clarke was in the midst of her pre-reqs for med school, Raven saw her less. Octavia was good for dragging her out to a dozen different stores. She always tried to convince Raven to pamper herself, never to any avail.

 

Jasper was still good for cutting her hair at least. Thank god for Jasper.

 

Without a cell phone she didn’t often hear too much from her friends, but she tried to appreciate the times when they tracked her down.

 

Of course, pushing all of your friends away can backfire on you. One such instance may be when you’re sitting in an ER waiting room, one where your life had already been drastically changed for the worst twice before. There were no fuzzy warm feelings in this place. She felt alone. And even though she could pick up the payphone and any one of her friends would be at her side in a heartbeat, she couldn’t bring her fingers to dial the numbers.

 

It might not be so bad if the triage nurse did shoot her a pitying look each time she came out to call another patient. Or if the people over in the registration desk didn’t all know her. Then there was Lincoln, the head hospital security guard and Octavia’s long-time boyfriend. He’d been kind enough to leave her alone when she asked and not call Octavia, per her request.

 

Raven crosses her arms across her chest and sinks lower into her seat, letting her bad leg stretch out in front of her. She fixes her eyes on the television which rambled on about whatever shitty event had taken place in the world tonight. A war here, a murder there; was any of it even worth reporting at this point? She drums her finger against her brace, all too aware of the lack of sensation in her knee.

 

Her anger and irritation grew with each minute longer that she sat there. She should have just gone to work. She’d have been in the same damn building doing the same damn thing after all. Location hardly affected the process of waiting.

 

Another person comes and sits next to her and she huffs in irritation. The whole waiting room was available and this person chose to sit directly next to her? “Hey,” they say and her head swivels to meet their eyes.

 

Recognition does not immediately come to her, but after a few seconds she remembers this guy in all of his obnoxious glory. “Dude,” is all she says in response, rolling her eyes.

 

“I swear I’m not following you.”

 

“Let me guess,” she starts, fixing her gaze back on the television. “You had some urgent carrying duties to attend to in the ER waiting area.” He chuckles in response. Perhaps he was amused that she’s referencing his ridiculous comments from last week or maybe just the type amused by a healthy dose of snark.

 

“Nah, just bored, not much engineering to do at two in the morning.”

 

Hm, she considers, an engineer. She turns to eye him up and down, trying to size him up. Wasn’t that much of a surprise now that she thought about it. “So they pay you to irritate people instead?”

 

“Just you,” he says with a smile that just a little too charming for her to take seriously. “You’re in the wrong place tonight.”

 

“Good catch,” she answers dryly. Too close, she decides and crosses her good knee over the bad one, trying to minimize the space she’s taking up to maximize their distance.

 

“Anything I can help you with?” he sounds so sincere it just gets on her nerves. Who does he think he is to be nice when he barely even knows her. Who was she to let him? “I can totally break us into the cafeteria.”

 

She scoffs at him. “As if.” It’s not the difficulty of it that makes her doubt, she’s done it herself in the past, something about him left her with the strong desire to argue everything he said. “Surely they’re missing you in your oh so special engineering job?” Her voice drips in sarcasm. She does nothing to correct it.

 

“Wow,” he says with a shake of his head. “So belittling of such an important job. If I didn’t know any better, I’d pin you as a mechanic.”

 

Raven swallows, takes a breath in through her nose and then shrugs a shoulder, pulling her stare away from his. “That’d be because I am.”

 

He cocks his head in response, drawing her eyes back to him. “Well then what the hell are you working here for?”

 

“Not many people are looking to hire seventeen year old mechanics.”

 

“Sev-seventeen?” he responds with slight shock to his tone. She hears him mutter, ‘Jesus,’ under his breath and shake his head. “I thought this place didn’t hire anyone until they’d graduated high school.”

 

“Got my GED a year and a half ago.” It wasn’t information that she was being forced to share, yet she offered it anyway.

 

He blows out a breath roughly and falls back against his seat, dropping out her peripheral view. “A bit ambitious are you?”

 

She has a whole retort ready to fall from her lips about how _he’s_ a bit nosy when the double doors open and a nurse calls out “Family for Reyes?”

 

Raven pushes herself up from her seat and takes the first step hesitantly, always a little concerned her brace will give out beneath her. “Right here,” she says, walking with a little more confidence but just as much as a limp.

 

“We can take you back to see your mother now if you’d like,” the nurse offers, smiling kindly.  “Dr. Griffin would like to speak with you as well.”

 

Raven nods, following after the already disappearing nurse. She turns back just as she reaches the doors, meeting the boy’s eyes before she goes. He offers her a wide smile and a thumbs up. Despite the fact that she doesn’t even know his name she’s grateful for the encouragement. She smiles back just barely before turning and walking away.

 

\----------------------------

 

“Does Clarke know you’re here?” are the first words out of Dr. Griffin’s mouth. She’s all tired lines and anxious stares. Everything about her screams mother. Raven finds herself jealous of Clarke not for the first time. There was definitely a period of time where Raven was jealous of her every day; the whole Finn thing was a rough time for all of them.

 

“Abby…” Raven sighs, falling into one of the padded seats in the family waiting room. Her dramatic flopping had been impeded ever since the loss of use in her one knee. It took a lot more effort to carelessly fall than it used to.

 

“You shouldn’t be alone when this stuff is going on, Raven.”

 

She waves her off; ignoring the way Abby sits next to her and rests a hand on her forearm. Raven pulls it away after a minute, trying to play it off as she rubs the back of her neck. “Clarke does not know I’m here, and you aren’t about to tell her.”

 

Abby sighs, running a tired hand through her hair. “I wish you wouldn’t insist on dealing with this alone.”

 

“I wish you wouldn’t insist I share it with someone,” Raven shrugs in response. She rests her elbows on her knees and stares at the floor, ignoring the way the tears collect in her eyes. Maybe they were there because Finn wasn’t here to be her someone anymore and maybe they’re there because her mom’s in the hospital, and maybe it’s her own stubborn resolve wearing away. “Just tell me if she’s going to be okay or not.”

 

A hand falls on Raven’s back which she immediately shakes off. She didn’t want her friend’s mother talking to her right now. She wanted the doctor. “Your mom is going to be just fine,” Abby says quietly and sits for another minute before smoothing Raven’s hair down and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

 

The words repeat over and over in her mind as the tears start to fall and a sob is torn from her throat in a garbled cry. “Just fine” was a relative term.

 

She cries until she doesn’t care anymore. Then she stands and walks back to the waiting room, sitting herself in the same empty seat and properly feeling the emptiness beside her for the first time in over a year. The TV still rambles on about the destruction of countries and families and people. Raven resents the dead, but not as much as she currently resents the living.


	4. You Want Me to What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick thinks Raven might be out of her mind and decides he doesn't care.

**Wick POV**

After Raven disappears through the double doors Wick sits and waits for almost a half hour. Then he realises that not only should he not be expecting her to come back. But that she probably wouldn’t want him there when she returns.

 

The quiet and dark of the ER is a bit eerie at this hour. He’d never spent an excessive amount of time down here to begin with. They’d only ever required his help in this department once or twice, but during the day he knew this place to of complete difference. It was bright, to the point of harshness, and there were beeping machines and crying children and complaining husbands. This place shifted between two drastically different atmospheres based on the time of day.

 

His footsteps echoed as he walked away, nodding to the person who sat behind the front desk reading a book. He should get back to the lab anyway. Monty will be noting his absence and drifting off to sleep to take advantage of it by now.

 

“So who’s the girl?” Monty asks as soon as Wick so much as cracks the door to the lab.

 

“Wh-what are you even talking about?” he asks as he flops into a hard chair at the computer whose light was about the only source of illumination in the room. Monty toyed with his phone, but aside from that there was utter darkness.

 

Monty shoots him a look which Wick can only just discern. “Jasper called me and said you were hanging out in admitting looking for some girl named Raven.”

 

“How the hell do you know Jasper in admitting?” he asks.

 

“You’re not the only one who flirts on the overnights,” Monty says with a wink. “Nah, actually we’ve been friends since forever pretty much. But don’t change the topic.”

 

“She’s just,” he starts, ready to write her off as nothing. But then he realises she _is_ nothing. He hardly knows a thing about her. “She’s a pretty girl that I thought flirting with might help pass the time a little faster.” Honesty, he decides, is the best policy. “Don’t act like you don’t do the same with Miller when I’m not here.”

 

Monty opens his mouth to argue but then snaps it shut a second later. “Shut up,” he mutters and then turns back to the game on his cell phone.

 

When all else fails, Wick decides, just deflect.

 

\----------------------------------

 

The nights eventually do start to wear on him. The sun is so rarely seen that Kyle worries he’ll be diagnosed with a vitamin D deficiency before his 24th birthday. He becomes a regular at the 24 hour Walmart, along with the one 24 hour grocery store, and also the many Wawa gas stations featured throughout Newark. He switches his toothpaste brand because Walmart doesn’t carry the one he used to use and his diet shifts from normal food to anything that can be prepared in a microwave. It’s like college all over again. Only now he doesn’t have homework and he actually somehow manages to sleeps less.

 

But he works his ass off anyway. He snatches up any extra hours he can find. Not to pay the bills, though that’s a nice bonus. It’s more so about trying to get all the experience he can possibly obtain from working a shitty overnight shift in a hospital. He had big plans. And Newark County Hospital was not the end goal. It was barely even the starting line.

 

Some might think that due to him being there morning and night he was bound to happen upon Raven again. After all, the universe had thrown them together so many times before now it seems only logical that when they are both working in the same damn building he would see her all the more. Instead it’s been almost a two weeks.

 

Wick swore to himself that he wouldn’t seek her out. He decided that coincidences needed to remain coincidences. It’s not like she really seemed to care for his company anyway. So it was one thing if the universe threw them together and she had to deal with him that way. It was a different matter if he was essentially stalking her.

 

Which he wasn’t. Okay, he looked her up on Facebook ONCE but that was it. (She didn’t pop up anyway.)

 

It’s actually on his day off that he sees her again. It’s a Saturday and he’s forgotten how awful the human population is in general on a Saturday as everyone collectively travels into the abyss of shops and post offices and banks. He’s in a bad mood on principle as he pulls into a parking spot at the very back of the grocery store. He’d chosen the store based entirely on proximity, his usual 24 hour spot being a solid fifteen minutes away. It doesn’t take long for him to realise his mistake as he discovers he doesn’t know the location of a single item in this damn store. And who decided that cereal and relish belonged in the same aisle? What sort of logic was at work here?

 

He’s hungry and irritated which just equals him being huffy and grumpy with anyone who looks at him for too long. If he was ever rich he was going to hire someone to get his groceries for him. He places all of his items on the belt without bothering to look up at the checkout girl. “Did you find everything okay?” she asks in a bored voice once it’s his turn. Her voice causes him to pause and he drops the four packages of ramen noodles back in the cart as he turns to look at the girl.

 

His suspicions are confirmed when none other than Raven Reyes stands in front of him. He says a quiet thank you to the universe for her appearance. “She lives,” he says, which is stupid because not only was she never in danger but now she knows he’s noticed her absence. “Uh, haven’t seen you around at the hospital.” That didn’t help.

 

“I’ve been working the three to eleven shift,” she says, breaking their gaze to start scanning his items. “I’ll be back on overnights soon though.”

 

It’s not information she’s forced to share but he’s glad to have it. “I trust that means I’ll see you around then,” he says, not missing the way her gaze scrunches in pain as she shifts her weight.

 

“Not if I can help it,” she counters but with an almost smile so he knows she’s joking…hopefully. “Although with this diet I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re dead by next week.”

 

“Hey,” he argues, plucking the bag of hot pockets she was offering out to him from her hand. “I’ll have you know these are whole grain.”

 

She smiles and scans the rest of his groceries through. He bags to help her out. “Do you want to give me your phone number?”

 

“What?” he asks in surprise. She sure did offer some seriously mixed signals.

 

“For the club card,” she answers with raised eyebrows. “I think the Lucky Charms you bought were on sale for a dollar off.”

 

It’s embarrassing the disappointment he feels. “Oh, yeah, whole reason I bought them.” Wick knows she doesn’t believe him. Surely a man eating easy mac shouldn’t feel shame in buying a box of Lucky Charms.

 

“Mhm,” she murmurs as he rambles off his phone number. “I’m assuming the same can be said for your four cans of Chef Boyardee?”

 

“Shut up," he mumbles quietly and slides his card through to pay. "I’ll see you around?” he asks when she hands over his receipt. 

 

Raven nods, holding out his last bag towards him. “See you around.”

 

\--------------------------------

 

Of course he spends every night after the grocery store experience essentially searching for her. He’d gotten his coincidence and now Kyle decided that the universe was telling him to just find her himself and make some damn small talk.

 

If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t even really know what he was after. Sure, she was pretty, but he was hardly looking to hook up with her. It might be the way she used to run past him every day, or maybe those cries that still rebounded through his skeleton late at night, or how she looked at him, never quite smiling but sometimes on the verge. Regardless of the reason, he wanted to know her more and just…do the right thing. For whatever reason, Kyle Wick decided that the right thing was to befriend Raven Reyes.

 

The universe must catch wind of his intentions and then immediately decide to fuck him. Because he doesn’t see her again for another three shifts before something finally happens.

 

It’s two in the morning and he’s got his head resting in his hand. At this point he is more asleep than awake in the empty lab. Monty had already taken off for his own late night socialisation when Kyle's phone goes off. “Wick, engineering,” he answers, trying to sound more awake than he feels.

 

“I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number,” the voice on the other end replies. It’s vaguely familiar but he’s too tired to place it right now. “I was looking for a professional carrier of items.”

 

A smile cracks his face wide open. “Hey, Raven.” Of all the ways he thought the universe might arrange for them to talk again, he hadn’t imagined the phone. “Keeping busy?”

 

“Me? Never,” she answers and it’s probably a joke but he doesn’t know her well enough to be certain. “Feel like helping me with something?”

 

He’s slightly flabbergasted. “You actually need me to carry something for you?”

 

“Something like that,” she replies. “If you aren’t too busy that is.”

 

Wick almost laughs in response. “I’ll be by in a few,” he answers before hanging up. Running his hands through his hair Wick shoves the phone back in his pocket and stretches his muscles out, suddenly very much so awake. He takes care to lock the lab door behind him, hoping Monty took a key with him. If not, too bad.

 

He takes his time walking over to admitting, not wanting to seem too eager but that doesn’t stop him from smiling at her as soon as he opens the doors to the front desk. “At your service, Ms. Reyes.”

 

“I sure am glad my carrying needs weren’t life or death,” she says as she pushes herself up from the desk. “I’d be a goner by the time you got here.”

 

Wick scoffs at her. “I do have actual duties I need to complete, you know.”  That’s a lie. He hasn’t done a thing since before Tuesday had turned into Wednesday. Well, he took a phone call and pretended to be IT for someone. He told them to turn it off and turn it back on. It worked.

 

“As if,” she answers, making her way over to him. He makes a point not to look at her leg, but his curiosity is a strong desire to fight back. Really he just wants to know how the brace works. It’s so long, going from her knee to her ankle, and seems almost to lock her knee into place. Did she injure it playing? Would it ever get better? Could she move it at all? So many questions. Regardless of the answers, he bet he could make her a better brace. Something that would at least let her move her poor knee. “Ready to take a trip?”

 

“Depends,” he answers. “Where are you taking me?”

 

“My sex dungeon of course,” she replies, throwing him completely off. She laughs at the ridiculous face he's no doubt making. “Kidding, I want your help with something.”

 

He mumbles something along the lines of, “not sure I consented to this,” under his breath and she whacks his arm for it. “You shouldn’t abuse your hero.”

 

“Oh please,” she says with a chuckle. “You’re more like my guinea pig.”

 

“In shining armour,” he retorts, following her back into the main portion of the hospital. “Staying on the same floor or going up?”

 

“Sixth floor, actually,” Raven says and Wick passes in front of her to hold the door open to the staircase. These damn stairs about killed him but it was the closest to leg day that he ever got. “Oh, um, I’m more of an elevator person.”

 

It only takes a fraction of a second to recognise his error. “Shit, I’m sorry, Raven. I didn’t-“

 

She waves her hand to cut him off. “It’s fine,” she says, cutting in front of him to make her way to the elevators. “Besides, it’s nice to know someone can forget.”

 

There doesn’t seem to be anything to say to that so he just steps away from the doorway to the stairs and holds out his hand for her to lead the way. “So tell me,” he says, pushing the up button for the elevator and stepping back to stand next to her and wait. “How does an early graduate end up here? Shouldn’t you be in Harvard or something?”

 

She answers with a bitter laugh as she walks into the elevator, pressing the button for the sixth floor with a little too much force. “Or something would be correct.”  He opens his mouth to inquire further but she cuts him off before he has the chance. “How about you? All the engineering opportunities and you choose to work in this hell hole?”

 

“It’s not that bad!” he argues. “It’s not my first choice but a job’s a job, right?” She meets his eyes and shrugs. “The company I get to keep isn’t a bad bonus either,” he says, not hiding the flirting in his voice as he leans toward her just a fraction of an inch. She rolls her eyes and doesn’t meet his gaze again until he backs away.

 

“You’re shameless,” she eventually says as the elevator doors slide open.

 

Wick follows her, a smile planted on his face. “So, what exactly are you hiding up here anyway?” The sixth floor wasn’t a frequently visited one. A couple decades ago it had served as an inpatient mental health unit. In the recent millennium it had been moved out of the hospital and become its own institution somewhere in the city. Now there was an empty floor where it was rumoured that nurses and doctors went for midday hanky panky or the occasional drug deal. At least, that’s what he had heard. “Medieval torture room? Hidden Justin Bieber fan room? Wait, wait no I’ve got it. Your-“

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” she interrupts. Wick is a little insulted. More so because she cut him off before the punchline than anything else. “Now shut up, no one is supposed to know we’re up here.”

 

For once he listens, following her silently down the hallways. The old scanners on the doors have long since been disabled, cobwebs collecting over them. She leads him to an office which had a regular lock on it. “Please tell me we aren’t breaking and entering,” he requests as Raven looks over her shoulder.

 

“Not breaking,” she answers as she pulls out a key from her pocket and slides it into the lock. “Just entering.”

 

He’s all ready to lecture her on legalities and how his job security is not _this_ good but then she’s swinging the door open and switching the light on and…”What the hell is that?”

 

Her face flushes red as one of her hands reaches up to rub the back of her neck. “Something I’ve been working on.”

 

“Something you’ve been…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Is that a fucking rocket?” Jesus Christ, he thinks as he steps towards it. It’s a fucking rocket. “Why are you building a rocket in an abandoned office of a hospital? Actually, scratch that, why are you building a rocket?”

 

Raven shrugs, coming up beside him. “To prove I could, I guess.” He looks over at her in question. “Besides, it’s not like it’s an actual rocket. It’s essentially a miniature model version.”

 

“Does it work?” he asks, eyes caught up in the exposed wires and what he thinks looks suspiciously like an engine.

 

“Not yet,” she answers with a sigh. “Hence why you’re here.”  She turns to him then, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m struggling with the pressure regulators and the accelerator. I thought maybe a new set of eyes might-“

 

“Is the great mechanic asking for a lowly engineer’s assistance?” he cuts her off in teasing, still a little in shock and a lot enamoured in the fact that she’s built a freaking rocket. That was hot.

 

In response she just huffs a sigh and turns back to stare at her project. “Can you help me or not?”

 

At first he’s ready to respond with of course! Why wouldn’t he help her? This is the sort of experience people like them dream about. The idea that he could tell people, hell he could tell future employers, that he helped build a small version of a rocket…those aren’t too shabby of bragging rights. “What’s it for?” he finds himself asking before he agrees.

 

“I told you,” she says. “To prove I can do it.” It’s the only response she offers and Wick isn’t entirely sure if he agrees that there’s nothing else to it. She must read the question in his eyes because she adds on, “No one is ever going to take me seriously unless I can prove that I can do something amazing.”

 

So she’s in it for the bragging rights too then. “Okay then, why not?” he answers even though his brain easily supplies him with all the reasons why exactly not, the first being that this girl might actually be ten different shades of insane. But he’s feeling reckless and the universe might as well be physically shoving him towards her. Who was he to push back?

 

“Cool.” She offers her hand for him to shake, as if this was a real business deal. “I have a supplier so let me know if you need anything.”

 

“Do I get a key?” he asks with a bit too much enthusiasm in his voice. There was something about doing something incredibly stupid that sparked his excitement.

 

“No,” she responds flatly. “Who knows what sort of damage you could cause when unsupervised.”

 

“I’m hurt, Reyes,” he says, a smile forming on his regardless face of his words.  She shoots him a look, probably aware that she has never told him her last name. She doesn’t question him though. “So when do I start work, boss?”

 

“How does now work for you?”

 

The situation was albeit, a bit crazy, but her wide eyes and hesitant half smile make him more than happy to comply. Perhaps he was even crazier than her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having way too much fun writing this. I hope at least a few of you are having half as much fun reading it. Merry Christmas to all who celebrate. I hope you have a wonderful holiday!


	5. I Need No One but Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven depends only on herself.

**Raven's POV**

Bringing someone else onto the ‘Raven Reyes Builds a Rocket Project’ had never been her intention.

 

When she had first started her little game of building a miniature rocket it had been for shits and giggles. She was smart. Had always been the top of her class in maths and sciences, had even won a chemistry competition her sophomore year. But she thought for sure that her book knowledge would not translate to practical knowledge all too well. The first time she fixes her neighbour’s car she’s blown away by the ease of the project. Then two months later she fixes the singular air conditioning unit. It had been spitting out only lukewarm air into the living room. She managed to rig it to blow out the coldest air she’d experienced since winter.

 

 After that she was tinkering with everything. Sure, the toaster went up in flames and yes, there was a mild explosion when she had been fooling around in the junkyard, but at the same time Raven Reyes learned how goddamn brilliant she was.

 

So when she first starts building a rocket in her bedroom she doesn’t actually expect the project to go anywhere. But then it does. First she ends up with a skeletal base and the start of a shock cord, next is the formation of a launch lug. For the first time in her entire life it feels like there is no limit, that she can actually _do this._ And if she can do this, well then maybe she can do anything.

 

Okay, maybe it was a stupid thing to do. What was a small rocket really going accomplish for her? The satisfaction made it feel worth it. Her confidence had taken its fair share of hits over the years. She was ready for something to make her believe in herself again. The day she completes the fixed engine mount is the day that she realises she’s accomplishing this on her own. And in accomplishing something alone Raven also realises that there is no one to be excited with her when she did something well. It wasn’t like Octavia would really care if Raven called her up and bragged about her scientific achievements.

 

The loneliness of success was not something she was used to.

 

Her room wasn’t nearly big enough to hold the rocket and allow her room to move. After all, her room was barely big enough for her bed and herself, so she was forced to hunt down another location to keep it. Outside hadn’t been an option but there had been a brief period where she’d considered hanging some sort of tent contraption to keep it dry. The abandoned sixth floor of the hospital was too perfect not to make use of though. And the few times that she’d had the potential of getting caught up there, someone was doing something equally against the rules. It was a game of: I won’t tell if you don’t. Thankfully it worked for her.

 

But after she’d completed the nosecone payload and the recovery wadding, she hit a stalemate when it came to the removable solid rocket engine. She’d tried a few different things, some of which probably had the potential to blow her and the hospital up, but had yet to get the response she was looking for.

 

So after Wick said he was an engineer it had set the wheels in motion in her head. She didn’t necessarily want his help but she hadn’t spent all this time working for nothing to come to fruition. Maybe it was the desperation to finish this project and maybe a small piece of her wanted to share the finished project with someone. It didn’t necessarily matter who.

 

And that was how this dork of a guy who seriously needed a haircut and a razor ended up being recruited into the Raven Reyes rocket club. Mostly he was a pain in the ass, but she truly was desperate and he was there.

 

She quickly learned he was the type of worker who talked to himself and yet still expected her to know when he’d switched from a one person conversation to two. She shot down his first two ideas before they’d even been fully stated and he was irritated with her pessimism.

 

“If you would just let me _try_ alternating the indicators then maybe it would work.” He would argue, lying on the ground, twisted like a pretzel in his attempt to get a good view.

 

“No,” was all the answer she offered. “That’s a terrible idea, Wick.”

 

After about an hour both of them knew they were probably being missed from their actual posts and the progress being made was minimal anyway. “I’ll look at it more when I come back in tonight,” Wick says with a sigh as they exit the room. They pause to take in the view from outside the hospital. The sun was rising, announcing another day to come along with it. Despite how much she hated the all night shifts sometimes, this part was always rewarding.

 

Stepping closer to the window, she stares out at the ground beneath them, covered in frost from the freezing air that had fallen over the city during the night. “Not a bad sight,” he says from behind Raven. She almost falls in her surprise as she turns to face him. Her good foot grounds her before she can topple over. Despite the injury being several months old, she had yet to fully adjust.

 

“I’ve seen better,” she says with a shrug, walking away and pressing the button for the elevators.

 

Wick snorts in response but follows after her. “You sure are a fun one, aren’t you?” he mutters as they step into the elevator.

 

“Hm,” she muses, watching the numbers descend to one. “Seems like you have the fun thing under control for the both of us.”

 

“Life’s too short not to, Reyes,” he whispers, a little closer to her ear than she had expected. The shivers that crawl through her body are undoubtedly due to his unexpected proximity. It had been a while since she’d had close contact such as this.

 

The doors slide open and she doesn’t say anything in response. In fact, she doesn’t even turn to look back at him as she walks out, only knowing he’s gone from the sound of the doors shutting once again.

 

\---------------------

 

Home was a term that Raven used loosely. She kept busy enough that she was hardly ever there, a few hours of sleep here or there, maybe the occasional meal, that was more than enough for her.

 

When she was younger Finn’s place had been her sanctuary. Just thirty seven footsteps south and then hang a right, twelve steps that way, and one more right to the third trailer on the left. It wasn’t that his actual home was any better necessarily, but there was food and jokes and the television playing quietly in the background. As they grew apart her visits dwindled. She had yet to go back there since the accident. She didn’t even know if there was anything left.

 

Sometimes that meant that she made do with what she had. If sleep wasn’t of such necessity Raven thought she might be able to go days at a time without ever stepping foot through the front door.

 

Unfortunately she does need sleep, and after almost 36 hours without it, she’s grateful that she has anywhere to go at all. She’d considered sleeping in her secret office at the hospital but the whole, abandoned mental institution freaked even her out.

 

After getting off from her overnight at the hospital Raven had gone to her other job at the local grocery store, carrying out another twelve hour shift before finally finishing for the day. Morning would call her back to work once again, but for the next few hours she could finally sleep.

 

She’s as quiet as possible, sliding her key into the lock and pulling the armload of grocery bags in behind her. It’s dark, no lights or sounds coming from any direction. Raven doesn’t know if anyone else is home, nor does she attempt to discern one way or the other. 

 

Tiptoeing to the kitchen she doesn’t bother turning on the light, working to stock the empty shelves and fridge in near silence.  She takes one look at the bottom of the fridge, littered with a variety of liquor bottles, and is tempted to dump out each and every one. But common sense gets the better of her and she moves them to the side instead, out of the way of the food.

 

No part of her has the energy to shower, so she simply works to strip off her shirt and bra before plopping herself onto bed and beginning to work on removing her brace. Though the sensation was extremely dull around her knee and down her leg, she can still feel the slight sting of painful chafing that has occurred. It was a relief to pull it off each night, though she hated the useless way her leg laid there when it wasn’t on. There was always that knowledge that if this trailer went up in flames she would be unable to get away lingering in the back of her mind.

 

Using her remaining good leg and a fair bit of practise, thank goodness she was flexible, she pulls off her jeans and toss them to a corner of her room. It was too hard to navigate once her brace was off. She doesn’t bother with pyjama bottoms, just more effort before going to sleep and when waking up tomorrow morning. So she simply works her way beneath the blankets and manoeuvres into a comfortable position, unbelievably appreciative for the chance of some solid sleep.

 

Her mind reels before falling asleep so it’s no surprise when she dreams. The surprise rests in who she dreams about. Finn used to be the only one who represented anything good in her sleep. The new appearance isn’t one she minds.

 

\--------------------------------

 

Morning comes by the sound of a blaring alarm and darkness still swallowing her room. She navigates to the bathroom using her crutches, somehow, and showers briefly. So many of her friends complained about work and school and their lack of free time as they got older. Jasper and Monty especially, always whining about not having enough time for the newest Assassin’s Creed. Raven found that without these things, however, there was little else to do. So though she was exhausted and freezing, both from the water of the shower that never quite got hot and the cool air that always snuck in through the night, she was still glad to wake up and have somewhere to go.

 

When her knee had first been injured she’d woken up in the hospital completely distraught, worried she would never be able to do anything for herself again. All she saw in the life ahead of her was needing the help of others, being fully dependent on Finn regardless of what either of them ever wanted. Abby had been her saving grace and had promised her that not only would she be able to walk again, she would be able to sustain her livelihood without the help of anyone else.

 

So that was what she did. It was terrible sometimes, and never did she feel like she was properly rested, but she was able to do it. After what had happened, that was all she cared about.

 

She freezes on her way to work, her wet hair making the process even worse as she wraps her jacket tighter around herself. She’s the first one there, as usual, and she lets herself in. Though technically not within her job description, the morning manager had made her a key to open the store since she was there so early. Raven held out hope that they would promote her to assistant manager soon. The pay raise might not be that great, but it was benefitted and a dollar more an hour was twelve dollars more a day. She wasn’t going to argue.

 

She’s early enough that she can put her own music on to play throughout the store as she finishes running the returns that hadn’t been completed last night. She sings along to the each song that pours through the speakers overhead, unashamed as she makes her way slowly up and down each aisle. Sometimes she tried to pretend that she’s working another job, doing what she actually loves. It’d be a dream to sing like an idiot in a garage instead of up and down grocery store aisles. But whatever, she’ll take what she can get.

 

As the day carries on Raven does her best to stay focused on her job, swiping things across a scanner can only remain intellectually stimulating for so long however. Instead she schemes on new plans for the rocket, there had to be something she was missing when it came to that engine. (If anyone asked her then there was absolutely no way that she looked up at each customer hopefully, wondering if maybe it might be _him_ again. Not that she even wanted it to be, just might help pass the time to take the piss out of someone).

 

Bellamy shows up unannounced for her lunch break, food in hand and discussion all planned out as he launches into a diatribe about Clarke and how she’s _so_ annoying and they’re fighting again over something as equally ridiculous as the first time.

 

Raven doesn’t dare complain. She hadn’t packed a lunch and if Bellamy hadn’t somehow magically sensed that she probably would have just gone without food until getting home at seven tomorrow morning.

 

After twenty minutes of ranting, (leaving off with, “But I mean, she isn’t always _that_ bad. I guess I’m glad she’s around”) he looks up from his food to stare at Raven for a minute. “So how have you been?”

 

She shrugs, poking at her mu shu pork. “Pretty standard I guess.” Bellamy was good at sharing, or occasionally monopolizing the conversation, she liked that about him. It meant questions like these were rare. Which was good, she never had an answer to offer.

 

“Your leg?” he asks, gesturing to her stretched out left knee. The lack of motion she had was annoying, but the ability to walk was not one she would complain about.

 

“Still here,” she answers, annoyed with her own vague answers. “I made a friend at work.” She volunteers this information even though it’s not really true, he was more so a colleague who’d been stupid enough to respond to her request.  But it was insignificant. It wasn’t about her leg or her health or her family. She could handle talking about the stupid blond guy at work.

 

The statement gets Bellamy’s attention, probably because she didn’t tend to share much. “Go on,” he says with a gesture of his plastic fork.

 

“His name is Wick-“

 

“Wick?” he interrupts. “That’s not a name.”

 

“Bellamy?” she retorts. “Don’t remember seeing that on the top 100 list this year either.” He grumbles something about “well at least I’m not named after a part of a candle, “ but doesn’t argue further. “I think that’s his last name anyway…”

 

Now he just laughs at her. “You don’t even know your friend’s first name?”

 

“It’s new and fragile,” she says with an eye roll. “Just like your manhood.”

 

He flicks a noodle out of his container at her and Raven stares in wide eyed shock as the cold, moist noodle lands among her hair. “Don’t insult my manhood.”

 

She plucks the noodle from her hair and considers flicking it right back at him. “Well thanks for the visual representation of it,” she says instead dropping it on the box they were eating off in disgust.

 

“I hate you,” he mumbles around his next bite.

 

“Ditto,” she says with a charming smile, happy that she had someone around to tease. The rest of her day felt a little bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful day. Also, I think it is now a good time to place a disclaimer that I have absolutely NO clue about anything regarding mechanics or engineering. My method when it comes to that stuff is mainly Google and use keywords. So if anything is unfactual or sounds really stupid, I'm sorry. Let me know if there's a way I can fix it. Anyways, thanks for reading!


	6. If at First You Don't Succeed, Try Try Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick keeps trying to impress Raven and she won't let him.

**Wick POV**

 

Somewhere along the way Wick figures out her work schedule. She never spells it out for him, but look for a person often enough and you’ll soon figure out their patterns. She worked twelve hour shifts five days a week, which was insane and only loosely legal, but odds were if he was there then she was too.

 

He takes another good long look at what they’re working with two days later. He asks the occasional question and receives the same criticism as the last time on every idea he can manage to conjure. Somehow he still goes back to the lab with the formations of a plan. The spark is enough to make him ignite with inspiration.

 

Over the next eighteen hours he works tirelessly on it. He sleeps maybe two hours before showing back up to work at seven the next night. There may be heavy bags under his eyes but the feeling of accomplishment that settles deep in his bones is entirely worth it.

 

This is the night that he’s at his busiest, of course, so he doesn’t make it downstairs to Raven until past midnight. She’s staring off into space at her computer screen, looking more asleep than awake even with her eyes open. “Hey,” he announces his presence since she doesn’t bother looking up as he walks through the doors. “Long day?”

 

“Something like that,” she mutters, stretching out her muscles and rubbing her eyes. “Got anything good for me?” she asks with a tone of expectation. She sits a little taller as he comes to stand by her desk, unable to stop from grinning.

 

“This is just a rough idea,” he opens with, pulling the sketch from his back pocket. “But I think with these adjustments and an alteration in the gas flow we stand a good chance at getting this thing working.”

 

The paper remains in his outstretched hand for a few beats longer than is comfortable before she reaches out and takes it from him. She unfolds his work and pushes the keyboard of the computer away so she can lay it flat out across her desk. Wick leans against it, lowering himself so they could look at it together. He was close enough that he could probably smell her hair if he was trying to. Which he wasn’t.

 

She contemplates it quietly for all of two seconds before picking it up and shoving it against his chest. “This is crap,” she says harshly, shaking her head. “Seriously, what do you expect me to do with this?”

 

Wick opens his mouth to respond but then thinks better of it. That seemed like a rhetorical question if he’s ever heard one. ”You’re welcome,” he answers in a sarcastic tone.

 

“Well it’s not my fault you aren’t giving me anything to work with.” She eyes him up and down before pushing herself up from her seat and walking past him.

 

“Where are you going?” he shouts as she makes her way towards the doors for outside. It was freezing out there.

 

“Outside,” she drawls. “I think some of your plans are still buried in the dirt out here.”

 

What a bitch he thinks as she walks away, holding up both of his middle fingers to her retreating back. He takes his crumpled work that had fallen to the floor and stalks off, his rage depleting with each step he took. Damn girl.

 

\---------------------------------

 

“Something got you worked up?” Monty asks that night.

 

Kyle liked having someone to work with, he really did, and Monty was a pretty smart kid so he didn’t require much coaching, but damn did he miss his solitude sometimes. Company was good when you were about to pass out at four in the morning. The rest of the time he could go without. “No,” he grumbles as he flops on to his desk chair and pulls the ruined plans out of his pocket again. She had barely even looked at them for crying out loud!

 

“Real convincing, bro,” Monty muses, eyes fixed on whatever game he was playing on his phone tonight. “It’s about that Raven girl, isn’t it?”

 

“You and Jasper gossip like a couple of teenage girls,” he complains as he starts to work on a fresh sheet of paper. Maybe she’d been right; the pressure regulator would never work there…

 

“You know,” he muses, putting his phone down for the first time. “Raven is kind of friends with Jasper. I bet he could dig some dirt up on her.”

 

Wick sighs, setting his own work aside to meet Monty’s stare. “Yeah and I work with Miller once in a while. Want me to dig up some ‘dirt’ on him?” Monty presses his lips together in response, picking his phone up and returning to his game. “That’s what I thought.”

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Three days later and he’s slapping another plan down on her desk. Far more intricate and detailed than the first. He was sure she would at least note his improvements. “This would never fucking work,” she says instead, almost sounding bored.

 

“How do you know if you don’t try?” he challenges her, leaning in so that he’s close enough to see the faint freckles along the bridge of her nose.

 

“With common damn sense,” Raven answers, narrowing her eyes before leaning back in her chair and fixing her stare back on the computer. Sometimes he doubted there was any work to be done on there.

 

“You’re so negative,” he sighs, taking her rejection better this time than the last. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

 

She looks up in time to see his cheeky smile. “Aside from you?” she questions. “Yes.”

 

Wick laughs. Raven looks at him like he’s crazy. For a brief second, she smiles back. “See?” he says, reaching across the desk to snatch his paper back and tap her on the nose in the same motion. “It’s more fun to smile.”

 

\----------------------------------------

 

Somehow, in all of the days of working the same schedule, Wick had never seen Raven walking out before. He always thought she must beat him to her car, but he sees her just before he pulls out of the hospital parking lot. His truck groans as he pulls up next to her, the window rolling down reluctantly. “Need a ride?” he offers. She was far off from any of the parking lots. Where the hell was her car?

 

“I’m fine,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand, her slow, limping pace continuing out towards the busy intersection.

 

Wick let his truck inch forward along with her. “Do you have a way home?” he asks, concern dripping from the question. It was like ten degrees outside. Not to mention the singular working leg she had.

 

“I’m not going home,” she grumbles in reply.

 

“Well how are you getting where you’re going then?” he asks and she turns to him with what might be actual death in her eyes. He presses a fraction of an inch further down on the brake and leans across the seat, opening the door for her. “Oh look, I answered my own question.” Kyle was really glad he was no longer terrified of her death stare.

 

Raven seems to contemplate him for a moment. He realises a second too late that she’s concerned about heaving herself off the ground with her one good leg and into the cabin of his truck. She manages though. It’s not exactly graceful but he’s hardly judging.

 

He offers a closed lip smile as she shuts the door and her whole body shivers. His truck wasn’t much warmer than the outside air but at least his vents had begun to attempt to offer some heat. “Where to?” he asks, pointing to her seatbelt when she didn’t automatically move to put it on.

 

“The grocery store on Hamond Street,” she answers with a yawn. She sinks low in her seat, her bad leg stretched out in front of her as she laid her head back and shut her eyes.

 

“Are you-are you going to work your other job right now?” he asks, dumbfounded. She’d just come off of a twelve hour shift! An all-night one at that.

 

A hand reaches out blindly to smack his arm. “Don’t make me regret getting in the truck, Wick,” she grumbles, throwing an arm across her eyes to block out the light.

 

She’s asleep before he even makes it onto the main road.

 

\------------------------------

 

If he didn’t think she’d kill him for it he would just let her sleep. Even so he doesn’t immediately move to wake her up after pulling into the grocery store parking lot. He sits in silence, putting his hands up close to the vents to absorb the heat leaking out of them.

 

It would have taken her at least five times as long to walk here, he figures, so he can at least leave her to sleep for another twenty minutes. The real struggle was keeping himself awake. No matter how backwards his schedule might be, he was always ready for bed by the time he got off of an graveyard shift.

 

To occupy his mind he takes out his sketch. This damn engine was seemingly impossible to get right. At this point he wonders if Raven is going to accept anything he makes. Every time he comes to her with a new plan he’s convinced that it’s as good as it can get. Raven was in the business of making sure he knew that it could always get better. Or that it was absolute shit in the first place so there was no where to go but up.

 

She wakes up with a start, jolting upright and wincing as a hand comes up to rub her sore neck. “How long have we just been sitting here?” she demands, looking to the clock and then to his attempts of drawing on a steering wheel.

 

“Not even fifteen minutes,” he says with a shrug, scrunching his eyebrows at the lines he was attempting to draw. They were a disaster.

 

Raven rubs a hand across her face and glances at the clock again. “Might as well get in there early,” she mumbles.

 

“Hey,” Wick says, causing her to pause as she moves to open the door. She looks back at him but doesn’t say anything. “Just…you’ll get some rest before you come in tonight, right?”

 

At first she looks almost angry, like she’s ready to lash out as she opens her mouth to say something. But then she stops, glancing to her hand on the door and then back to him. “I will,” is all she says as she swings the door open. The icy blast of air isn’t something Wick is prepared for. He folds his arms across his chest to guard himself from it as Raven works to get out of the car.

 

Neither of them say another word as she shuts the door and begins to walk inside, turning around and waving in his direction before disappearing into the building.

 

He’s halfway home before wondering to himself who was going to pick her up. Then he remembered it didn’t matter. She’d probably just beat up anyone who tried to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks to all of those who are sticking with this. I'm glad some of you are enjoying it. Honestly one of the main things I'm trying to work on with this story is pacing. So if any of you would be willing to give feedback, at any point, on how you feel about that please let me know. I'm trying to develop the characters as well as the very basics of plot and work towards Wick/Raven's relationship as realistically as possible. If you guys think things are moving too slow and you're bored, let me know! If you think they're becoming closer too fast, also give me your input. I'm curious to read how people feel about it and perhaps adjust accordingly as well as apply it to anything I'm writing in the future. Thanks again :)


	7. Killed by Kindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven is too tired to say no but too stubborn to say yes.

**Raven's POV**

 

It had gotten to the point that Wick was so infuriatingly considerate that Raven was about to resort to beating it out of him. Yes, he was a smart ass and gave her back just as much as she served, but she could identify the little things he did to ensure her comfort. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate it, but the notion of someone looking out for her was old and tired. She had been done with that concept for over a year now.

 

It would be worse if he was only like that with her. She’d noticed that it just kind of who he was in general though. He held the door for people and always asked what floor they were going to on the elevator. He’d probably be the type to burp orphaned babies in one hand and feed kittens in the other. It was disgusting.

 

But she put up with it, for the sake of their project. She let him walk half a step behind her and hold the elevator doors. She didn’t even bite his head off the night she was practically doing the splits in the office as she tried to get the right view on something. He asked if she wanted help. The answer was no, of course, but she wasn’t mean about it at least.

 

The morning he stops his truck and offers her a ride though is just about the last straw. Too far Johnny good-boy, she thinks as she keeps walking straight ahead, ignoring his questions. But then he’s opening the passenger side door and he’s got this look on his face where it’s almost like he’s the one asking for help instead of her receiving it. So she gets in the damn truck. It was cold outside anyway.

 

When she wakes up and he’s just casually sketching on his steering wheel, god she can’t wait to see _that_ plan, she about kills him. But she looks at the clock and sees she is still almost a half hour early. For a second she considers just going back to sleep. But then she thinks of Wick sitting there, watching her, probably judging the fact that she was sleeping wide mouthed and snoring in his truck. So she gets out and decides to just clock in early. The extra four dollars must be worth it somehow.

 

Work is slow and she’s tired. The pain starts in her knee and travels down from her shin to her ankle. It happens when she leaves her brace on too long, the relatively useless muscles still craved movement. They weren’t meant to be all caged up like she kept them. Abby had insisted she perform range of motion exercises at least three times a day. Raven translated that to mean at least once every three days.

 

It’s not long until her right leg hurts worse than her left. It was instinct for her to put the majority of her weight on her good leg. After four hours, anyone would grow tired of standing for so long. It just so happened that she grew twice as tired. As soon as break comes she disappears into the stock room, ducking behind shipments of pepperoni and paper towels and sinking to the floor.

 

She does her best not to cry out as she starts taking off her brace; the relief is so strong that it hurts. Stretching forward first she forces her toes to point and then pulls them back to flex. She can just barely feel the quivering of her muscles in her leg. It resists every stretch she forces it into, pain burning its way through every useless tendon and ligament. It worries her that all of her poor care will lead to the full loss of the use of her leg. Not acknowledging it at all made it easier for her to pretend it just wasn’t happening.

 

Sometimes she was so used to the damn brace that she could forget for a minute that she was a cripple now. It didn’t take more than a boy holding the door to the stairs for her to be reminded, though. Her resent and gratitude for the metal, velcro contraption was constantly warring. Today she hated it with the fury of a thousand suns.

 

Her whole break is spent like that. Smelling the slightly saturated box of cleaning products next to her as she remains seated on the ground with her good leg stretched out and her bad leg being forced into a bend it resisted with whatever strength it had left. If she wasn’t in so much pain, Raven would bet she could fall asleep right there. But thirty minutes is gone before she’s even relaxed all of her muscles and she’s strapping the contraption back into place, ignoring the protest of her leg as she does so.

 

She forces herself back into a standing position. She let her right leg take the brunt of the weight before carefully stepping forward on her left, making sure it would hold. Everything burns and stings and stabs, but she keeps walking forward, back out to her post.

 

“That was over thirty minutes, Reyes,” her ass of a manager says.

 

Raven salutes him mockingly as she walks forward. “My sincerest apologies, Wells.” He doesn’t reprimand her though he probably should. The next four hours she spends subtly leaning against the cash drawer, silently thanking the gods every time someone pays with their credit card and doesn’t make her move.

 

\------------------------

 

The shift at the hospital moves slowly. At first Raven is relieved for the chance to sit, her legs protesting any other effort being put forth on their part. By the time three in the morning rolls around she’s desperate for something that will require her movement. She could fall asleep so easily.

 

With no one walking in or out of the hospital doors Raven carefully begins to loosen the straps on her brace. It wasn’t often that she did this, especially twice in one day, but as she was nearing forty eight hours of containment, it seemed reasonable to give in.  As soon as she’s released the last strap, she moves to bend her knee. Much like earlier in the stock room, her muscles are tight and resistant. She moved slowly, letting her leg adjust to the position before moving it further.

 

She rests her head on the back of the chair and stares up at the tiled ceiling. At first she pretends the tears aren’t gathering in her eyes at all. Then she slips her eyes shut in order to ward them off.

 

The sound of the door opening causes her to jump up. “Hey.” She knows who it is before looking.

 

When she glances out the window she sees the sun has started to rise already, who knows how much time has passed. “Shit,” she mutters, glancing to the screen and the small list of patients that had compiled on there.

 

Wick walks around to her side of the desk _of course_ and sees her brace, resting there against the drawers of the desk. She shoots him a look as she picks it up and throws it beneath her desk, out of view. “Can I help you with something?”

 

He doesn’t respond to her biting tone. It’s annoying how good he’s gotten at ignoring her bad moods. “You ought to try coffee, Reyes. Makes a world of difference.”

 

“I’m sure it does,” she mumbles as she quickly enters through the patient’s accounts, swivelling in her chair to grab papers off the printer. She hopes he doesn’t notice the way she’s forced to use her arms to get her back into place.  “I just dozed off for a minute,” she says in argument. She knows that he’s hardly going to go tattle. But she also knows that the wrong person catching her could lead to immediate excusal of her position. Falling asleep at the front desk was hardly exhibiting professionalism.

 

“Been there done that,” Wick says with a shrug. At least he wasn’t going to bother reprimanding her. “So I’ve been thinking about this whole rocket building thing and I’ve reached a conclusion.” The most response he gets out of her is a brief glance off of the screens to meet his eyes. “It’s impossible. You’ve recruited me for an impossible task. Also, mildly illegal.”

 

He’s joking, she knows he is, but she’s still irritated. “Well then quit if it’s so impossible and illegal for you.”

 

“Nah,” he says instead with a wave of his hand. “I’m eager to prove you wrong. Already have my victory dance choreographed out.” She hates him. She really does. “Tell me, do you prefer butt wiggles or the worm?”

 

She takes one of the papers on her desk and crumples it up, bouncing it off of his head as she throws it. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”

 

He smiles back in the most infuriating way possible. “And you’re a little bit at my mercy.”

 

“Damn engineers,” she mumbles as he gets up from across the desk and makes his way back to the way he’d come.

 

“See you when you get off!” he calls as he disappears through the door, preventing her chance of arguing. Smug bastard.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

As promised, Wick arrives just two minutes after seven, an empty coffee cup in one hand and his car keys in the other. “I haven’t even clocked out yet,” she grumbles as she takes in his eager self. He was practically radiating excitement. She didn’t know if that was to be attributed to the end of a shift or the fact that he planned to torture her the whole way home.

 

“Hey, Jasper,” Wick says instead, nodding his head towards him. “Monty said to tell you he’d be by later to drop off your game.”

 

“Good man that Monty,” Jasper says with a smile. Raven looks between them, unaware of the way her friends intertwined with her newfound…helper. That must be what happens when half the damn people you know work in the same place. “Go clock out, I’ll take care of this.”

 

She nods. He’d been here longer than her; surely he could handle something as simple as mismatched admission orders. “I’ll be right back,” she promises Wick as she swipes her badge and steps through the doors, making her way to the time clock.

 

Normally she’d be fighting him tooth and nail over this whole, driving her home nonsense, but her leg felt like a hot knife was stabbing it with every step. She didn’t know if she’d be able to make it home without completely breaking down. So maybe she was slightly grateful for his obnoxious kindness today.

 

As she swipes her badge along the time clock, Abby walks in behind her with an armload of donut boxes. “Hey sweetie,” she says with affection. “How you doing?”

 

“Peachy,” Raven mumbles. Abby had Clarke for a daughter, no doubt she could handle some grumpiness.

 

She tsks at her as she sets down the boxes and quickly slides her own badge to clock in for the day. “Taking care of that leg?” she inquires.

 

“Of course,” Raven lies, ignoring the consequences that flash through her mind of what happens if she doesn’t take care of it: atrophy, disfigurement, amputation. What an ugly collection of words. “How’s Clarke?” Dr. Griffin could talk about her daughter for days. She’d just entered her third semester of pre-reqs for med school and was the apple of both of her parent’s eyes. It was annoying as hell, but also great for deflecting conversation.

 

Abby smiles just at the mention of her daughter and Raven really hates the way it makes tears sting the back of her eyes. She bites the inside of her cheek and blames the lack of sleep. “Tired, but she’s adjusting to the course load well.” Raven smiles politely in response. “She asks about you often. You should call her sometime.”

 

_That’d be easier with a cell phone,_ she thinks but doesn’t say. The piece of junk had broken weeks ago. It was hardly on her list of priorities to replace. “I will,” she promises simply instead. “It was good seeing you but my ride is waiting on me.”

 

Abby opens the top donut box and holds it out. “Take one for each of you,” she offers. Raven Reyes was never one to turn down free food.

 

“Thanks, Abby,” she says, tempted to take a bite right then and there. Her pride keeps her in check a minute longer. “I’ll see you around.” She darts out the door as someone else walks in, avoiding any further delay in farewell.

 

She makes it back out front and holds one of the donuts out to Wick. “Courtesy of Dr. Griffin,” she says by way of explanation.

 

“Wow,” he murmurs as he takes it from her. “You’re in with the big dogs.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she cuts him off before he gets on a kick. “See you, Jasper.”

 

“You back in tonight?” he calls after her.

 

“Hell no!” she answers, almost joyous at the statement. It was rare she had both the day and the night off. It wasn’t that she had anything better to fill her time with. Except sleep, sleep sounded like an excellent way to fill her time right about now.

 

As soon as they’re out the door she takes the first bite of food that she’s had since dinner the day before. It’s sticky and sweet and a little bit sickening, but she loves every bite of it. When she turns to glance at Wick, to see if he’s enjoying his donut as much as her or if she’s making a proper fool of herself, she isn’t terribly surprised to find him watching her. “That good, eh?”

 

“Did you just say, eh?” she asks, shaking her head as she swallows her mouthful of donut. “Are we in fucking Canada or something?”

 

He rolls his eyes as they reach his truck. “You’re just jealous that you’ve never thought to say it before.”

 

Raven holds her hands up in mock surrender. “You caught me.” She licks the remaining glaze that coated her fingers and opens the door to his truck, sighing quietly as she once again determined the distance from the ground to the cabin. It was a bit of leap.

 

Not for the first time she’s forced to swallow her pride as she stumbles her way in, pulling her useless lump of a leg behind her.

 

This time she doesn’t stretch out and get too comfortable. It’d be way too easy to fall asleep again and dozing off in front of Wick once was more than enough for her. The last thing she needed was for him to catch wind of the fact that she was exhausted pretty much constantly.

 

“Here,” he says, interrupting her concerns. “I appreciate the doc’s offer, but I’m not a huge fan of donuts.”

 

She eyes him suspiciously, unsure if he’s doing that thing where he’s being nice and also trying to help her save face, or if he’s actually telling the truth. In the end she determines it would be just as embarrassing to accuse him of pitying her as it would be to just take the donut. Plus, she was hungry. So she snatches it from his hand without any further hesitation. “Your loss.”

 

He starts his truck and begins driving, not asking her for directions but going in the right way regardless. “Where to?” he asks once they’re on the main road and cruising at a decent pace.

 

“Just drop me off at the store again,” she mumbles around her last bite of donut. There was something about a full belly that left her feeling like she had no choice at all but to fall asleep then and there. It was a battle between her exhaustion and her pride.

 

“Please tell me you aren’t going to work again.” He practically whines out the statement, like a begging dog or a desperate child.

 

How weak. “No,” she grunts, her head falling back on the seat. Admittedly, she didn’t resist it.

 

“Well do you need to pick something up? I’ll wait for you so you don’t have to walk home.” His nice guy thing was pissing her off once again. Surely he had better things to do.

 

“Wick,” she grumbles in an irritated tone. “Just drop me off where I said, alright?”

 

He nods and Raven pretends she doesn’t see the way he looks over at her. She didn’t like the idea of someone looking at her like that. His eyes belonged on the road ahead. Not on her.

 

Crossing her arms over her chest she stares out the window until they reach their destination. Raven keeps her eyes open throughout the ride using every ounce of stubbornness she has in her. It was rather a lot and yet she still almost found herself drifting to sleep. She turned her bad leg in a way that sent a shooting pain all up and down the limb and into her lower back. That would keep her awake.

 

Before he’s even pulled into the parking lot she’s unbuckling her seatbelt. Wick has just stopped the car when she throws the door open and moves to climb out. “It’s freezing out there,” he says, eyeing her once again. “You’re not even wearing a coat for Christ’s sake.”

 

“Thanks for the ride, Wick,” she answers, pretending to ignore the begging in his eyes. It was pathetic. He sighs as she shuts the door to the truck, giving him a small wave to encourage him to pull away.

 

As soon as he’s gone she drops her head and hugs her arms tight across her chest. She starts her walk home doing her best to ignore the pain in her legs and the shivers travelling through her body.


	8. It Means Nothing till You Let It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick is bad at ignoring Raven and Monty is playing matchmaker

**Wick POV**

 

Somewhere along the way of going to college and getting a job, Wick had managed to lose track of all of his old friends. He was a well enough liked guy in high school, same for college. But, despite never moving far from the area he grew up in, many of his friends had moved on. A lot of them had already gotten married and had a kid or two. They didn’t have time to be actual friends with people anymore. Now their relationships were maintained through Facebook photos of their six month old vomiting.

 

In the way that his old friends had been consumed by families or travelling or girlfriends, he’d been absorbed in getting through school and starting his career. Though it had only just started, he knew there wasn’t much he could do until he got more experience under his belt. Big companies wanted people with lots of experience. It was hard to find jobs willing to offer an opportunity to gain such experience. Wick knew he was lucky to have the hospital.

 

So he really didn’t mind the overtime he worked. In fact, it was the days off that called attention to the fact that he didn’t have much else to do. Sure, there were errands to run and laundry to wash, but there wasn’t anyone hanging around to go do stuff with. Every once in a while he’d try and call some of his old buddies, Facebook messaging a couple even in desperation. No one really reciprocated.

 

So Saturday night when Monty invites him out with Miller and a handful of other people, Wick is quick to agree.

 

They all meet at a local restaurant and he wears something halfway decent, just for the sake of it. A part of him hopes that someone in this group might just be single and willing to entertain him for a short while. It had been a while since he’d been with anyone. Even longer since he’d dated someone seriously. All that damn time spent focused on his work really left him behind.

 

He spots Monty first, waving excitedly from across the restaurant, his other arm slung around the back of the booth. They sit in a semi-circle booth, just enough space to fit the group of them. He makes his way over and greets everyone with a smile as he moves to take a seat. “Everyone this is Wick,” Monty introduces him.

 

For whatever reason his first name had never stuck once he was older. He shakes hands with the people across from him. Miller he at least is familiar with. Then he meets Jasper, who’s technically spoken with before, and a blonde named Clarke who he partially stands up for in order to meet her hand. Turning his head to meet everyone else he almost falls out of the booth in surprise when no other than Raven Reyes is sitting there, just one person away from him. “What the-“ he breathes out with a shake of his head.

  
“Oh you two know each other?” Monty’s voice is so falsely innocent that Wick is half tempted to reach across the table and smack him upside the head for it.

 

Raven stares him down for a minute before answering Monty. “We’ve run into each other a time or two.” He isn’t sure how to take her brushing him off.

 

It’s then that he takes note of the man sitting between him and Raven. He was older, probably about his age, and he had the whole dark and ruggedly handsome thing sort of going for him. Wick tries not to be bothered by how close him and Raven are sitting, or consider the fact that maybe the reason she shrugged him off was because she was on some small form of a date. He also ignores when she whispers something to him and they both laugh or how she picks food off his plate once dinner comes out. (He actually doesn’t ignore it at all. But he wishes he could.)

 

As his insipid inner dialogue and careful observations carry on, everyone else continues to chat, often times talking over each other until nearly the whole table was shouting. Miller makes polite conversation with him as does Jasper, who fades in and out of everyone’s banter to throw in his own two cents. Some girl named Octavia shows up next, everyone scrunching in closer to fit her and then a big brunt of a guy, named Lincoln, pulls up a chair to the end of the table (thank goodness).

 

The whole gathering is pleasant. It’s loud and rambunctious without being too obnoxious. Wick notices the ones who nurse drinks, and the ones who steal sips throughout their meals. Octavia keeps eyeing Bellamy’s but never has any. Lincoln is for sure old enough to order something but orders refills of sprite throughout the evening instead.

 

After some time he excuses himself from the table, in need of something a little stronger than an iced tea. He wasn’t going to say it was because Raven wouldn’t so much as look at him, but it might have been a contributing factor. He goes up to the bar and orders a regular old beer, appreciating the bartender and her low cut top as he waits for it to be made.

 

“Is the group a little too much to deal with?”

 

Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that Raven approaches him, they were practically friends. At the very least they were acquaintances. But after ignoring him for half the night he’s a tiny bit shocked to find her leaning against the counter as her weight shifts fully to her good leg. “Just a bit,” he says, taking his beer from the bartender that’d he been eyeing up until a minute ago.

 

“Want the run down?” she asks, taking a sip from the straw of her water.

 

“Please,” he answers with a tinge of gratitude to his voice. She sits down on one of the stools so he does the same.

 

She goes into a diatribe, explaining Monty and Miller’s history of almosts, Clarke’s recent break up with Lexa that had left her even more reserved and cranky than usual, and Jasper’s constant need for attention and approval (which was why he was partially tied to his cell phone, checking every two minutes to see if the girl he liked had texted him back). She explains that Octavia and Lincoln have a heavy history, a story for another night. Not once does she mention the boy who sits next to her.

 

Wick caves. He gives in to his desperation to know who this guy must be and just asks. “Well what about that one dude, Bellamy? He your boyfriend?” He tries to ask it casually, eyes focused on his near empty beer as his one hand runs through his hair.

 

When she doesn’t immediately answer he has to peak up to catch her expression, expecting it to confirm his question. But then she bursts into quiet little laughs, persistent and steady for a minute before she gathers herself, arms wrapped around her stomach. “Oh god, I’m sorry but that was funny.”

 

“Excuse me for asking a perfectly normal question,” he says, trying to hide his smile behind his beer.

 

She rolls her eyes, still smiling. “Bellamy’s essentially my brother. Besides, he and Clarke might as well be dating.” At this she shakes her head. “It’s seriously a matter of time.”

 

From there they just kind of sit in silence for a bit. “Why aren’t you eating anything?” he finally asks, noting for the first time that she’d been the only person at the table not to order anything.

 

Her eyes flicker to him briefly before she looks away, staring back at the booth of her friends who hadn’t yet to even seem to notice their absence. “I ate before I came.” That seems to be the end of the conversation as she sinks back to the ground. Her right leg nearly crumples beneath her as it takes the brunt of her weight. Wick reaches out quickly, moving to grab her before she can fall. Her hand latches onto his wrist, her small grip was surprisingly strong as she regains her balance. “I’m fine.”

 

Once he’s sure she’s steady he pulls his arm away, offering a small smile to try and reassure that he wasn’t judging her. Her face hardens as he does so and then she’s walking away without another word. He doesn’t miss the hesitation before each step.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

The night ends well after Wick expected it to. His overnight working self isn’t bothered by the two a.m. time stamp on the clock, but others at the table appear to be growing more delirious by the second. Octavia practically has Lincoln carry her from the restaurant, Bellamy watching with furrowed brows but no comment as he waits for Clarke to scoot her way out. Based off the interaction he’d witnessed between them tonight, Wick couldn’t argue with Raven’s earlier statement. They were the type who just kept orbiting each other until some cosmic collision forced them together.

 

Maybe he should suggest Monty attempt to play match maker with those two next time. Although, he couldn’t say he was entirely disgruntled with the interaction he’d been tricked into tonight.

 

Miller had always been a morning guy and had been whining about the time since eleven had hit. Monty kept teasing him for it, but Wick drew the conclusion that one minute longer and Miller might have actually lost it. Outside of the restaurant everyone exchanges hugs and handshakes. Bellamy kisses the top of Octavia’s head and shoots eyes to Lincoln but doesn’t say anything as the two of them walk off together. Then he and Clarke walk off, followed by Monty, Miller, and Jasper.

 

Suddenly it’s Wick and Raven, standing on the freezing sidewalk at two in the morning as sharp wind blows all around and right through them. Again, she lacks a coat. “None of them ever give you a ride?” he asks, more than a little flabbergasted that she hadn’t gone with any of them.

 

“It’s not their fault,” she mumbles, clearly interpreting the judgement in his voice. He’s about to ask how something like that could not be their fault when she answers for him. “I always say no.”

 

He reflects on the words for a minute before looking up at the light haze of clouds that covered the night sky. “That doesn’t mean they should stop asking.”

 

“Stop,” she interrupts his thought process from carrying on with his irritation. “Don’t judge them.” It’s not an easy request, but one he concedes to regardless. “I’ll see you later, Wick,” she tells him which is the promise of a future meeting but also the means of a goodbye.

 

For a minute he accepts it, too caught off guard to react. “Wait,” he says when he comes to his senses; it takes four long strides to catch up to her. “You must know by now that I can’t just leave you to walk home like this.”

 

“And you must know by now that I really hate your fucking charity.” The words are harsh, coloured in red and blunted with black around the edges.

 

He takes a step back, knowing when he’s unwanted. “Raven, I wasn’t trying-“

 

She holds up her hand to stop him. “I don’t need your help.” Her shoulders hover too close to her neck, her tiny fists formed and tight, and her stance too still with all of the weight on her poor right leg once again. Then, all at once, everything loosens. Her shoulders drop, one open hand comes up to run down her face, and her left leg accepts some of her weight as her posture relaxes. “Fine. Take me home.”

 

At first he goes to ask questions. It’s his predisposition; he wants to know what changed her mind or why she was so angry at the idea in the first place. But he fights his instincts and withdraws instead; worried that otherwise she’ll take off. “My truck is this way,” he whispers, just barely louder than the wind as it picks up once again. He doesn’t open the door for her or help her in, as he otherwise might feel inclined to do, but instead gets himself right in and turns the key. The engine turns over, thankfully, and he turns off the blasting cold air, well aware that it will take several minutes to warm up in the slightest. She buckles her seat belt and he drives toward his old neighbourhood, the one she used to run in, waiting for further directions.

 

When she offers nothing he decides to ask. “Do you still live in my old neighbourhood?” Her head whips around in surprise at the question, her ponytail a quiet swish in the truck.

 

“What old neighbourhood?” she questions slowly. “Where did you use to live?” He names the place, a rush of nostalgia forcing its way through him at just the thought. She scoffs as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I’ve never lived there.” Her voice is bitter.

 

Thankfully she doesn’t question why he might think she did. He turns on the heat and a minute later she turns on the radio, making quick work of finding all of his buttons as she tunes through the stations. She settles on some top 40 song and falls back into her seat. “Turn left here,” she says after a couple of minutes. He does as he’s instructed. “Stop,” she says after another mile. He sees no house, or even a turn off for a neighbourhood. He pulls onto the shoulder but doesn’t put the car in park.

 

“There’s nothing here,” he comments. There wasn’t even a damn street light.

 

“This is close enough,” she says in response, moving to unbuckle her seat belt. His hand shoots out to still hers and she pulls away before he’s more than grazed her hand.

 

“Sorry,” he mutters. It was a warring matter. Letting her get out and save face like she wanted and not wanting for her to be brutally raped and murdered on the side of the road because of it. “Just let me drive you the rest of the way.”

 

There’s a beat of silence before she speaks again. “I don’t want-“

 

“I don’t care where the hell you live, okay?” he says to cut her off. “I don’t care if you live in a tent in the woods or some mansion or whatever. But I do care if you get run over by a car trying to walk home at two thirty in the morning.” His patience is gone. Especially for petty things like saving face because of where you live. He takes his foot off the break and looks over his shoulder before easing back onto the road. “Now which way.”

 

Aside from the radio there’s silence for several minutes, so much so that he wonders if she’s just going to let him drive forever as punishment. But finally she says, “Turn right,” so he does that and then a minute later she adds, “Turn left.” They drive for barely a minute longer before she tells him to stop. He does.

 

“Thank you,” he says with a sigh of relief. He only glances at her place, she’s made him so damn curious with all her secrecy, but then he looks away. It was a trailer. So what? “Get some sleep.”

 

“You too,” she whispers as she releases her seat belt and swings the door open. “And thanks for the ride,” she adds over her shoulder just before she pivots herself and drops to the ground below, landing firmly.

 

He watches her into her place before pulling away.

 

It might be the most exhausting night out he’s ever had. But when he collapses into bed after getting home, he doesn’t regret it in the slightest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years everyone!! I hope everyone had a safe and enjoyable time ringing in the new year. Just an update on how this story's moving along, my goal is to have the entirety of it written before I leave for vacation on the 13th, though that may not happen, and to keep on a roughly every other day updating schedule. Theoretically I would like the whole thing to be published and completed before the new season starts, but I'm not sure how many chapters are left so that may or may not happen!
> 
> As per usual, thanks to all of you who are sticking around and reading. Hope you continue to enjoy!


	9. Nothing Stays the Same from Yesteryear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven remembers the past and dares to consider a future

**Raven's POV**

Thanksgiving passes by in a blur. Raven works a morning shift at the grocery store and a double at the hospital. Holiday pay was not to be ignored. She buys a turkey bowl from the local gas station and practises the Thanksgiving rituals by being thankful when she doesn’t contract food poisoning from it.

 

The weekend after the holiday Octavia tracks Raven down during her Saturday morning shift at the store, begging her to come stay the night. “My mom peaced out for some vacation package with her boyfriend and Bellamy has to take off for a work thing,” she explains, bagging for Raven to keep her from getting in trouble. Thankfully the asshole manager didn’t work weekends anyway. “Please don’t leave me all alone for the weekend.” She pouts her lower lip like a child.

 

“What about Lincoln?” Raven asks as she swipes a series of yoghurts across the scanner. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend the night at Octavia’s necessarily, but she hadn’t done the whole slumber party thing in a while, especially not since her leg injury. It was uncomfortable taking her brace off in front of people, letting them see how useless the limb really was. Besides, this would be her first Saturday night off in over a month. She’d had plans to sleep.

 

Octavia sighs. “He has to work overnight at the hospital, but even if he didn’t I’d still want you to come over.” Raven doesn’t entirely believe it, but she wasn’t going to argue. “We haven’t had any girl time since you were practically a freshman!” Before Clarke came into their lives, before her knee got fucked up, before everything with Finn went down. There were reasons their hang out times had been limited since.

 

“I guess so…” she finally consents, more of a resigned mumble than an actual agreement.

 

“Yay!” Octavia shouts, abandoning her bagging duties to throw her arms around Raven. “It’s going to be fun, I swear.”

 

“Octavia,” she reprimands, shrugging her off. “I’m working.” The girl apologises quietly but gives Raven another small hug before stepping away. Raven smiles apologetically to the man in front of her, trying to make quick work of the rest of his groceries.

 

“See you tonight!” Octavia shouts as she exits the grocery store.

 

Damn it, she tries not to curse at the idea. Octavia was her friend; they’d been practically best friends through all of middle school. As close to best friends as Raven allotted at least. She was the one person she’d had when things started going to shit with Finn and it was Raven that Octavia first came to when admitting to her growing problem. Raven would make the best of this. Besides, it might be a relief to spend time with someone other than herself.

 

\-------------------------

 

She goes home and showers and gathers her belongings. She leaves her work check on the table for her mom along with a note. Her mom didn’t tend to ask about Raven’s whereabouts, but every so often she would worry when she woke up in the middle of the night and her daughter was just gone. Once she’d even called the police who at least had enough damn sense to try her cell phone. But still, she tried to avoid her mother’s worries.

 

It got dark early now, so Raven left before five with hopes of reaching Octavia’s before the sun completely set over Newark. Wick’s intense concern last weekend had made her rethink a thing or two. Maybe a small part of her did have a death wish, but at the very least she could try and act like she didn’t. For the sake of everyone else.

 

Though she tried to make it a point not to think about stupid Wick with his stupid facial hair and annoying comments, sometimes she had to allot herself a short bit of time to consider him. Be it his intentions or his mannerisms or whatever. There were still a few questions which enshrouded him and Raven liked answers.

 

He hadn’t been around since that night at the restaurant, since the night when she’d been stupid and led him straight to her shack of a house per his insistence. Though she knew his radio silence wasn’t connected to her poor living conditions, it still felt that way.

 

A week and a half wasn’t even that long, but after his near constant presence over the previous days, it was an uncomfortable difference.

 

The road to Octavia’s lacked a decent shoulder. The terrain was hard for her leg to conquer so she focuses on each step, using the dying light to guide her way. She doesn’t notice the car pulling over next to her until a window begins rolling down. Her heart jumps into her throat at the realisation. “Get in the car, I’ll drive you the rest of the way.” It’s Bellamy.

 

She doesn’t hesitate as he’s still in the middle of the road and she’s still a little high on the relief coursing through her. Thank god it’s just Bellamy. “Aren’t you going to be late?” she asks as he makes a U-turn to go back to where he came from.

 

“Ten minutes isn’t going to make or break anyone,” he grunts though she does notice how he drives a little over the speed limit through the neighbourhood. “You should have told my sister to pick you up.”

 

“I like the exercise,” she retorts and neither of them says anymore on the matter. He pulls into the driveway a moment later and she hurries to get out. “Have fun this weekend,” she taunts and he mumbles something that sounds like ‘as if’ as she shuts the car door.

 

Every time this happened she felt stupid. People stopping their cars and picking her up or insisting on giving her a ride home. She was a mechanic for Christ’s sake. Maybe she ought to be building a car instead of rocket.  Oh well, she’d have to start that next.

 

Her fist raises up to knock on the door but Octavia swings it open before she’s made contact with the wood. “Bellamy called and said he’d just dropped you off,” Octavia says by way of explanation of her seemingly psychic door answering. “I’m glad you made it!” She steps aside to let Raven in, taking her bag from her.

 

The aroma of the house immediately set Raven’s stomach rumbling. She could pin point the scent of pizza anywhere. “Me too,” she says, attempting to smile graciously. She was relieved to be led through to the living room and find the whole area taken over with various sleep over supplies, blankets and pillows included. She could make her way up and down the stairs to Octavia’s room if necessary, but it wasn’t a pretty sight. Therefore she generally avoided all stairs at all costs. “Quite the set up,” she comments.

 

“I know, Bellamy said I got carried away but…” she fades out, biting her lip. “Well ever since stuff went down last year I feel like I haven’t been able to just…have a good time with friends.”

 

“As if you and Lincoln don’t have a good time,” Raven teases with a wink which results in a light shove and giggling. “I know what you mean, though. It’s good to have you back, O.” Her time away was a touchy subject; Raven did what she could to avoid it in the same way that her friends avoided mentioning her leg.

 

She grins wide and toothy. “It’s good to be back. Though I didn’t miss school,” she complains, shooting her textbooks in the corner a look. Had she of not had her setback Octavia would have graduated last spring with Clarke. Now she was stuck repeating her senior year. “But I’m not even thinking about that tonight. What do you want to do first?”

 

Raven only needs to contemplate the question for a second. “Eat.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Sometime late into the night both girls are spread out in the living room, properly gorged on junk food and already having critiqued three different episodes of Say Yes to the Dress. Octavia flips the TV off and lays her head a fraction of an inch from Raven’s. The room is dark and for a moment everything is completely still.

 

“Talk to me,” Octavia whispers after just a minute.

 

“Do you want a story, an anecdote, maybe a limerick or-“

 

“No, Raven,” she interrupts before she can carry on any further. She reaches her hand down and grabs Raven, squeezing firmly. “I know it’s different for you now, with Finn gone. You can talk to me instead if you need to.”

 

For a minute Raven just soaks in the words and the contact, squeezing Octavia’s hand back firmly before letting go. “Thanks, O. I appreciate that.” But she says nothing else.

 

“Is there anyone else you think you might ever love as much as him?” Octavia had already checked out when the drama had started going down. She wasn’t firmly there for his death either. She’d missed the slow fade away and then the final goodbye, too lost in her own induced state of trying to be okay to truly be present. Raven tried to think she didn’t resent her. Having Octavia bring him up now makes her realise she does.

 

It isn’t a question that she answers easily, though it is one she’d considered many times in the past. The hurt was still so real and raw with the realisation that she wouldn’t be loving _him_ anymore. “I don’t know.” It’s the only answer she’s ever come up with. “I loved him so…deeply. With how we grew up together and…everything he did for me. I don’t know that even if I loved someone else in the same quantity if it would be in the same quality. You know?”

 

Now Octavia takes her time to answer, the darkness holding their whispered voices like a secret. “I guess I do. I never fully understood you and Finn, to be honest, but I know you both were dedicated to each other. Even when the love ran out…you were both committed in your own ways.”

 

Maybe that was true, though Finn’s commitment seemed utterly small in retrospect, at least by the end. “I guess.”

 

“Hey Raven,” she says after several minutes of silence. Raven had begun to wonder if she’d fallen asleep.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You do know…” she pauses and Raven can hear her changing positions. “Even though Finn’s life ended that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to spend the rest of yours miserable.” It’s something Raven’s wondered a thousand times in the last few months. A question she’s never felt certain in the answer, one way or the other. “You still deserve happiness.”

 

Perhaps she should respond, but it’s too hard to talk around the lump in her throat.

 

“Okay, easier question,” Octavia declares, turning on her side and propping her head up with her hand. “Is there anyone you like?” she giggles like their twelve years old with Disney Channel playing in the background and nail polish half dried on their toes.

 

“No,” she answers automatically. But that damn engineer’s taunting face pops in her head and she curses him for the intrusion. “Maybe.”

 

“I knew it!” she squeals, bolting up before being pulled back down with a harsh yank from Raven. “It’s moustache guy, isn’t it?”

 

“Ugh, I hate it when he doesn’t shave,” she complains.

 

“I think it looks pretty good on him,” O chimes in. “So it _is_ him then?” It’s a loaded question, one that Raven kind of hates. She hadn’t even managed to admit this to herself, let alone to her friend.

 

She takes a deep breath and forces out the word, “Maybe,” when she releases it. Octavia is already beginning to freak out when Raven puts an abrupt end to it. “But it’s not going anywhere. It doesn’t mean anything.”

 

“Why the hell not?” she demands, furrowing her brow. She’s so close that Raven keeps getting little puffs of pizza and chocolate breath. She scrunches her nose in response.

 

“He’s annoying, like extra annoying, and he does that thing that guys do where they try to take care of you like your some delicate flower,” she grumbles out the last bit, irritated just mentioning it. “You know I hate shit like that.”

 

“All valid points, Raven,” she answers, her words slow and considered. “But, and hear me out on this one, he looks at you not just like he’s worried about you but also…”

 

“Also?” she prompts after Octavia’s been silent for almost a full minute.

 

She doesn’t respond immediately but after a few more silent and heavy seconds she says. “I don’t know, it just reminds me of the way Lincoln looked at me when we were in group together and stuff. At first I was worried that he was judging me or thinking he knew what was best for me, but looking back I know he was actually just looking at me because he _liked_ me. He liked me, but he thought I hated him. So he just stoically stared, maybe hoping I would warm up to him but also maybe just looking while he had the chance.”

 

It’s a beautiful notion, at least for Octavia and Lincoln. Raven didn’t quite subscribe to it. “It sounds like he really cares about you.” She deflects instead.

 

Octavia turns over and flops onto her back, a happy sigh slipping past her lips. “Yeah,” she says the joy evident in that single word.

 

“Have you guys done the deed yet?” Raven asks, no hesitation. Octavia reaches out blindly to smack her which causes giggles from both of them.

 

“Maybe,” she says through her laughter. “Okay yes.”

 

“And?” Raven prompts. It was silly and maybe a little bit childish, but lying here on the living room floor snuggled beneath a red and pink Hello Kitty blanket helped remind her that she wasn’t meant to be grown yet. She was seventeen years old and who better to remember that with than one of her oldest friends?”

 

At first Octavia doesn’t answer, going from silly to serious in a moment as she thinks through her answer. “It’s like someone is saying they love you without any words at all.”

 

“And like they’re worshipping your body in every way possible.”

 

“Flaws or not,” she finishes, a wide smile in place once again. “The orgasm is pretty nice too,” she tacks on which leads to another round of laughter.

 

It wasn’t just the sex Raven missed, though she did find she missed that, but also that connection Octavia had explained. Being wholly someone’s and they being entirely yours, it was a feeling that had been forgotten until being dredged out and brought back to mind.

 

“I’m glad you found him,” Raven whispers after another minute.

 

“Thanks,” Octavia says, leaning in to kiss Raven’s cheek. “I hope you let someone find you too.” She rolls over and falls asleep in mere minutes, leaving Raven to lay there and contemplate her words.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

Sunday she goes home to find the place in total wreckage. Dishes everywhere, plates shattered and pieces of mugs crunching beneath Raven’s shoes as she walks inside. The sight makes her shoulders fall in disappointment. It was as though someone unplugged the hole in her heart, letting out the air of hope all over again and leaving her feeling heavy and run down.

 

She tries not to dwell on those feelings and bends down to begin collecting the broken pieces of glass. It’s not an easy task with her stupid leg getting in the way.

 

“Oh, my beautiful girl,” she hears from behind her as she fights with one particular piece that has wedged itself beneath the table. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

 

“Hi, mom,” she answers quietly as she finally snags the evasive shard. She stands to meet her mother, attempting to discern her current state. “Is anyone else here?”

 

“No, no,” she says with a wave of her hand, her weight shifting forward with the motion so she almost falls forward. Raven reaches out her hand, clenching the glass pieces tight in her fist so she doesn’t cut her mom as she corrects her balance. “It’s just you and me, my love.” Her mom reaches forward and tucks a piece of Raven’s hair behind her ear and then leans forward to kiss her forehead. “That’s the way I like it. Just you and me.”

 

“Me too, mom,” she agrees quietly, the corners of her mouth turning up so slight but enough to appease her mother. “Why don’t you go back to bed, okay?”

 

She consents, nodding her head as she walks past Raven to grab her cup off the counter, the scent strong enough to burn Raven’s nostrils as it passes by her. “Goodnight my darling girl.”

 

She watches her walk down the short hall and shut the bedroom door behind her. “Goodnight, mom,” Raven says, opening her palm to the bloody shards of glass that rests there.

 

She spends the next twenty minutes before work picking glass out of her hand and pretending that it didn’t feel like another stab to the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for a bit of delay between updates, it was a crazy weekend. Anyway, I'll post regularly the rest of the week, no worries. Thanks again to those of you reading and commenting. I'm still having a great time writing so I hope that shows!


	10. A Proposition for Something Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick gets tired of waiting for the universe to do a damn thing

**Wick’s POV**

 

His schedule gets fucked again. Just when he’s made some leeway not only does he get put on days, but he’s sent to Newark’s sister hospital twenty miles away. It’s a proper trauma centre, all decked out in importance and such. So he’s grateful for the opportunity to work somewhere like this for a short while. But every day when he drives to work at six in the morning he just thinks about Raven, walking home alone in the further dropping temperatures.

 

His Thanksgiving holiday had been spent alone. He spared a thought to his aunt and uncle a few states over, but they only call him to wish him a happy holiday. He’d considered cooking a dinner, but thinking about eating a Thanksgiving meal entirely alone just seemed far too depressing. It wasn’t the first one he’d spent alone; probably wouldn’t be the last either.

 

So he’s already on his melancholy kick from being moved temporarily and then he’s at home alone over Thanksgiving. Someone else had already snagged the holiday time at the hospital. Instead of being productive in other ways, like scrubbing the shower that desperately needed it, he works on plans for the rocket. He lays out large sheets of graphing paper and starts from the beginning. He metaphorically tinkers with everything that he has the slightest knowledge on, leaving the proper mechanical things to Raven.

 

It’s frustrating, not having something to actually work with, but he theorises and then he theorises a second time through Raven’s eyes. It’s not quite the same when there isn’t someone to call you stupid to your face, but he was making do.

 

Monday rolls around and he goes to his supervisor. He tells her that he’s so glad to have the opportunity to work where he was. And then he asks, with heavy pleading in his voice, when he was being moved back to Newark County. “My car isn’t a big fan of these extra miles. She might give out on me if I keep it up,” he only half lies. That truck had been on its last leg for years now. He was convinced only divine intervention got the engine to turn over each morning.

 

A week or two, she tells him. He just needs to be patient until they found a proper replacement for the job. She says they had been planning on offering it to him. He says no thank you.

 

Perhaps it was the wrong move, but it felt right. At least it did in the moment. Now he felt a little foolish as he scrambles through the couch cushions to find something extra to start saving up for Christmas gifts.

 

After three days he decides he can’t take it anymore. Pride be damned, he gets up early on his day off and drives to Newark County Hospital, parking illegally right outside of the main entrance and running in, more so to get away from the cold than anything else. He walks in, smile in place, and finds nothing more than an empty desk to greet him.

 

Of course she’d be off doing god knows what when he shows up. He takes a seat opposite of her desk, waiting for her to get back and busies himself with his phone. He was attempting nonchalance as much as possible. “I have a proposition for you!” he declares, jumping up as soon as he hears the doors open behind him. Thankfully it’s Raven and not some random doctor.

 

“Jesus, Wick, it’s too late to surprise someone like that.”

 

“Technically it’s too early,” he corrects, gesturing to the rising sun outside. She shoots him an unamused glance as she walks around to her side of the desk and flops back down. “Shouldn’t you be off by now?”

 

She grunts and cradles her head in her arms on the desk. “Jasper’s late,” her muffled voice explains a moment later.

 

“Probably stayed out too late with his girlfriend,” Wick accuses, shaking his head. Damn kids.

 

Raven peaks her head out of her arms to raise an eyebrow at him. “Please, you know as well as I do that he stayed up too late playing video games. Don’t flatter him.” She sits up straight, stretching her arms up to the ceiling and rolling her neck back in an attempt to wake up.

 

“What the hell happened to your hand?” Wick demands as soon as he sees it. A collection of bandaids clutter her right hand, many overlaying one another. The entire palm of her hand was covered with them. He reaches forward to take it as she pulls it down to examine it out of instinct. She lets him hold it for all of two second before snatching it back and shooting him a glance.

 

“Nothing,” she says quickly. “I broke a plate and got mad in the process of picking up the pieces.” She shrugs as if to say no harm no foul. He fixes a gaze on her, questioning her story along with silently wondering if her hand needed some proper medical attention. “It’s fine though. Healing nicely.”

 

He curses under his breath but doesn’t say anything else. Last thing he wanted was to piss her off. “So you had a proposition for me?”

 

“What?” he says, drawing his eyes away from her hand and back to her face. “Oh right, that.” It takes a minute for him to collect his thoughts again, mind still in all the wrong places. “Seeing as you’re a supposed mechanic who can build illegal rockets-“

 

“Shh!” she demands, glancing around to make sure no one else could hear.

 

“Sorry,” he responds, glancing over his shoulder for good measure. “Anyway, I was wondering if you might consider doing some work on my truck.”

 

For a moment she considers him. “What kind of work?”

 

“Oil change, filter replacement, maybe tinker in the engine and see if you get it to you know…work better. Nothing fancy.”

 

She bites at her lip, considering his offer as the doors to outside open and Jasper walks in, hair a mess from the wind and cheeks bright red. “Sorry, Raven, I overslept.”

 

“Yeah, I figured,” she answers with a wave of her hand as he disappears behind the double doors to clock in. “Don’t you have someone already?”

 

“Huh?” he asks, his thoughts elsewhere. “What like another mechanic? Not really, I normally just take it to the dealers.”

 

“The dealers!” she practically screeches and then shakes her head in shame. “They totally rip you off there.”

 

He has a cheeky comment all ready about how he’s never had a competent, cute mechanic to rely on until now when Jasper walks out of the double doors, yawning loudly. Wick isn’t sure if he’s either been saved or ruined.

 

“Stay up late talking to that girl?” Wick asks, nudging him with his elbow and offering a suggestive wink.

 

“Nah,” Jasper says, switching spots with Raven. “Monty and I got caught up in this new MMORPG. It was actually pretty cool cause-“

 

Wick holds up his hand to stop him before he can go any further. “You’ve said enough.” Raven shoots him a pointed look, giggling behind her hand when he rolls his eyes. “You’re a lost cause, Jasper.”

 

“Thank you,” he answers with a cordial tone and a nod of his head.

 

“Anyway,” Wick says holding his arm out in invitation for Raven to walk outside with him. “Good old Betsy is on the verge of death and I was hoping you might be able to keep her going a little bit longer.”

 

She pauses to fix him with a stare, all judge-y eyes and singularly raised eyebrow. He doesn’t have time for dramatic looks though, not when it’s this cold out. “Can you judge me from inside the truck please?” he asks, making a point not to open her door and save himself from one of her angry tirades.

 

He doesn’t waste time turning the engine over and blasting the heat as high as it will go, which wasn’t very much. “Maybe fix this damn heat too if you can.”

 

“I don’t know, Wick…” she trails off, staring out the window.

 

“I have more plans sketched out for the rocket and you’re not getting them unless you agree.”

 

“Tragic,” she sighs, suppressing a yawn. “I really enjoy looking at trash.” He shoots her a dirty look but only for just a second before fixing his eyes back on the road. “Fine, I guess I can look at it. Can I go home and change at least?”

 

Coming to a stop at the red light he looks over at her. “I didn’t mean right now. Good god, do you ever sleep?” She doesn’t answer. “Someday when we both have off I can drive to you or whatever.”

 

“That might be hard to coordinate,” she says as she chews on her lip. “Let’s just do it now. I’m not even that tired.”

 

“When was the last time you slept?” he demands. Though he knew it didn’t take much for her to shut down, he didn’t care right now. When she doesn’t answer he feels validated. “It’s not that difficult to make future plans, Raven. Just give me your phone number and we can text it out later.” She mumbles something under her breath in response. “Huh?” he asks, shifting slightly closer to her.

 

“That would be hard to do since I don’t have a phone.” Her voice is louder than it needs to be now, her words clipped and angry. He knows she’s embarrassed more than anything else. It’s something relatively small and trivial, but he doesn’t doubt it bothers her.

 

He pulls down the street for her house, remembering the directions she’d given him in the dark of night weekends prior. “That’s no big deal,” he shrugs, trying to exude nonchalance. In all actuality his every word and action was considered and calculated. With Raven there was often one thing that was so very wrong and then something else that is at least okay. He does his best to stay on the okay side of things. “We’ll figure it out some other time.”

 

“No,” she argues without missing a beat. Using her arms she repositions herself, sitting up straight as if to convince him that she was awake. “Let’s start today.”

 

“Raven…” he wants to convince her otherwise but he sees the determination in her eyes. If only she knew that his proposition had originally just been orchestrated as an excuse to drive her home this morning. His pride couldn’t quite take that sort of admission though.

 

Pulling into her trailer park he spares a brief glance in her direction, checking to make sure she was okay with him driving her here in daylight. She makes no move to protest. When he stops outside of her place she shoots him a nervous look as she moves to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Just…stay here, okay?”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of going anywhere else,” he says and she rolls her eyes but climbs from the truck to the ground. She sends him one last look as she unlocks the door and swings it open, disappearing inside.

 

This had been far from his intentions, but Wick was far from complaining. The time he spent with her had been so limited, so stilted in atmospheres such as work or surrounded by other people. He didn’t quite know what to expect from her in a different setting, let alone his house.

 

She comes out almost twenty minutes later. Her work clothes exchanged for a pair of jeans and a Henley. “Sorry,” she says as she pulls herself in and shuts the door behind her. She was getting much better at the process.

 

“No worries,” he answers. He could only imagine the difficulty that was added to changing her clothes because of her leg. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks before driving away. “It can seriously wait.”

 

“Waiting too long between oil changes can fry your engine for good,” she says, pulling her ponytail out and shaking it out with her hands for a minute. “Your truck cannot handle any sort of strenuous effort being put on it.”

 

At first he’s ready to defend his truck, say how it’s handled a lot worse than a late oil change in her many years, but then his mind is distracted watching her gather all of her hair back up, hands sweeping it off her neck and twisting the ponytail holder around it. Watching her was a bit mesmerizing. “Well are you gonna drive or what?”

 

“Right,” he says with a shake of his head. “Sorry.” He drives them to his place, only a few miles from where she lives, and pulls into the closest parking spot to his apartment building.

 

“You’ll have to move it somewhere with some more room if you really want me to do anything,” she says before he’s even turned the engine off.

 

“I know.” He gets out and waits for her to do the same. She stays where she is until he looks back and gives her an impatient look. “I thought some breakfast might be nice before you start tearing my truck apart with your bare hands.”

 

The look she casts him is dubious but she doesn’t argue. “Whatever, let’s just not take too long.”

 

He leads her toward the building that was his, quickly realising that there were three steps leading into the building and then two more flights of them to climb once inside. He freezes in his tracks at the thought but she just keeps walking, making her way to the foot of the stairs and using her good leg to step up, her other leg moving unbent to join the good one. He takes hurried foot steps to reach her, climbing the stairs and holding the door open for her to walk through. “Thanks,” she mutters.

 

“Sorry, I’m on the third floor,” he says once they’re inside the vestibule.

 

Raven shakes her head, starting on the flight without hesitation. “It just takes me a little while.”

 

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” he answers, remaining one step behind her the whole way up. She was steady on her feet but she was right, only being able to take one stair with every two steps of her feet did slow her down. They reach the top after a few minutes, Raven’s face a slightly paler shade than it had been before they started. He wants to ask her if the stairs hurt her but he doesn’t, opening the door and inviting her in instead. “Sorry it’s uh, kind of a mess.”

 

When he’d originally left this morning he hadn’t planned for her to end up back here with him. In an attempt to hide the chaos that was his apartment he hurriedly throws some dirty dishes in the sink and picks up a pile of clothes and tosses them down the hallway. Raven raises an eyebrow at him but then she laughs. “I didn’t pin you as a total slob.”

 

If he cared he might try and deny her claims. But there wasn’t much point considering that there were more dishes in his sink than in his cabinets. “Who has time for cleaning up?” he asks though it’s very rhetorical. The answer was him. He had plenty of time for cleaning up. “But that’s not important anyway,” he says opening the fridge and pulling out what he can find. “Breakfast is of the utmost importance currently.”

 

“If I didn’t know any better,” Raven starts as she sits down at his table and stretches her leg out in front of her. “I’d say you were just trying to lure me back here to begin with.”

 

“Excuse you,” he taps her nose with the end of the spoon in his hand. “You were the insistent one. I don’t handle hunger well. Breakfast is pertinent in my life.”

 

“Wash that,” she says in reference to the spoon that had just touched her nose. “I’m not eating my dead skin cells for breakfast.”

 

“Gross, Raven,” he murmurs as he tosses it into the sink and pulls out a new one. “Hey those plans for the rocket are in the living room if you want to check them out.”

 

She considers it for a moment before getting up and walking into his living room. “Do I want to know what’s growing in this cup?”

 

“That’s from last night!” he says with mild confidence. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

From there she’s silent. He’s surprised that he doesn’t immediately hear claims about how idiotic his plans and was he _trying_ to ruin this project for the both of them? The quiet is almost eerie.

 

Thankfully Wick had purchased pancake mix back when he’d first gotten this place, having all sorts of grand plans of cooking for himself. More fortunately still was the fact that it hadn’t yet expired. He dumps some milk and eggs in, hoping he was close to the right amount and stirs, pouring them onto the stove with more confidence than he feels. He gets through pouring one and a half when he remembers the lack of Pam on the pan. Then he starts over with a sprayed down pan. He’s surprised with the ease at which he manages from there.

 

By the time he makes it through the batter he has enough pancakes to feed the two of them for the next four breakfasts. “You should be proud of me. I-“ Wick’s already to announce his surprising abilities in pancake making when he walks into the living room to discover Raven, feet propped up on his coffee table, head lolled back on the couch, and one of his sketches lying against her chest as she snores lightly.

 

Perhaps it’s not surprising; Kyle knew that he had fallen asleep in some very weird locations after working all night. He was glad she felt okay to fall asleep here, even if she hadn’t chosen to do so. Oh so carefully, somewhat because he didn’t want to wake her but even more so because he didn’t want her to bite his head off, he takes the blanket off the back of the couch and carefully spreads it over her as much as he can. She flinches at the contact, eyes cracking open the slightest bit. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers. She mumbles something incoherent before falling to lie on her side, the couch arm as her pillow. Wick moves her legs, very gently so as to not jostle her hurt one, to the other end of the couch so she wasn’t bent in such a funny angle.

 

Then he pulls back, leaving her to sleep and eating his share of pancakes in the kitchen. He takes special care not to let his fork and knife scrape his plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I have like, nineteen chapters written and the new season starts in a little over two weeks. I figured, might as well post daily for a little while since I can. So hope you don't mind on the excess of chapters. I know not many people are reading, which is fine, but I hope those of you that still are don't mind the length!


	11. 'Cause I Don't Want to Miss One Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven wakes up feeling lost and ends up feeling at home

**Raven's POV**

 

Every thought is hazy as consciousness returns to her. Her eyes are still shut tight but she hears running water coming from some other room and she feels the scratchy pillow beneath her cheek. Raven cracks her eyes, surprised at the orange light that was spilling through the window. A rush of dread floods through her when she realises that she isn’t in her own bed or even her own house.

 

Her eyes open wide as she props herself up on an arm, making note of her surroundings as the events from earlier this morning come rushing back. “Shit,” she murmurs. It felt like she’d slept for years, her blood thick like syrup and her mouth as if stuffed with cotton. That last sensation that comes back to her is the strongest. Her leg, still wrapped tight in her brace, was screaming in protest. The nerves left there were angry and burning hot with pain.

 

It’s too much to bear. Raven knows there is no way she’ll be able to get up and walk on it until it has the chance to bend and curl and stretch in other ways. Glancing around the room, looking for the owner of the apartment, she starts to undo the straps and uncoil all of the different mechanisms.

 

The first rush of air to her hot skin is like a cool winter breeze. It hurts in its intensity at first, but she appreciates it nonetheless. Though not visible beneath her pant leg, Raven can imagine the many indentations on her skin probably near purple by this point. She can feel the spots where her skin has chafed. Small blood stains dotted her sweatpants where the worst of it had occurred. Bending all the way forward she moves to undo the final straps all tangled around her ankle. Every muscle in her leg, though so dull in its existence, manages to scream themselves into awareness, protesting the stretching her current action required.

 

Expletives slip through her lips as she ignores the tears that gather in her eyes on instinct. She always thought this was a pain she would adjust to. It hardly seemed fair that she could barely feel the existence of her lower leg most of the time and yet it could still _hurt_ this bad. She called bull shit on her luck.

 

“Hey, you’re finally up!” Wick says in a voice too cheery. He came from behind, catching her off guard. “Are you okay?” Either her leg or her face must come into view. His entire demeanour changes as he walks over to her side of the couch, hovering too close.

 

She’d snap at him, tell him to back off or that she’s just fine, but her teeth are clenched tight against the pain. She doesn’t have the energy to gripe when her mind is wrapped up in her current agony.

 

“Hey, you’re shaking.” He sits himself on the edge of the coffee table, hands reaching out but stopping before they got too close.

 

Of course Wick is right, her hands are shaking too much to release the final clasps and pull the last strap through. She falls back with a grunt of frustration. It was her own fault, falling asleep with it still strapped on like this and not doing her exercises pretty much ever. Her muscles were giving up even more, denying even the simple act of stretching. Raven throws an arm across her eyes, trying to hide the way tears are starting to fall even though the worst of the pain is alleviated now that she’s given up.

 

Due to her dulled sensations she doesn’t notice anything is happening until she hears the click of release from the clasp. “What are you doing?” she snaps in anger. If she was able she’d pull her ankle away from him. “Get off.”

 

His hands pull away, held up in surrender. “Just let me pull this last strap so you can slide this thing off.”

 

Raven knows it probably stinks like hot, sticky skin, and that her bloodied pant leg will be visible. It’s only out of true resignation that she throws her arm over top of her face again and closes her eyes. “Pull the other way, genius,” she grumbles after a few seconds of him fumbling with it. When the last of it is released Raven uses the muscle in her thigh, the ones that still worked, to lift her leg just barely and let him pull the brace out and away for good. She sighs, the pain still present but the relief of the rubbing, constricted contraption blessedly gone.

 

A part of her feels like she should thank him. Her pride keeps her mouth clamped shut. “How long was I asleep?” she asks instead, pretending the quiver in her voice isn’t there.

 

“I believe you were going on hour ten,” he says, causing her to half sit up in surprise. She glances outside the window properly for the first time and realises that the sun is setting already.

 

“Fuck,” she breathes. “Sorry, Wick.” It hadn’t been the first time she’d passed out unintentionally. Despite how much effort she put into pushing her body past any and all breaking points, she still fell apart eventually.

 

He waves her off, his eyes flicking to the brace for a second before they settle on her face. “No judgement here. I once fell asleep in the dentist’s chair. The hygienist had to wake me up when she was done.” It’s something so small and trivial, but Raven appreciates his attempt at making her feel better. “I’m a little hurt you fell asleep before trying my world famous pancakes.”

 

Before she has the chance to mock his claimed ‘world famous anything’ her stomach growls, cutting her off. He smiles at the sound and doesn’t hesitate before standing and making his way back to the kitchen. “Don’t worry; they’re just as good when you heat them up!” She thinks she hears him mumble something along the lines of, “I’d know since I ate them for lunch,” but she doesn’t comment.

 

She moves while he isn’t in the room to witness it. Her hands force her leg to do as she wishes. The first bend of her knee was of great relief and arduous suffering all at once. She bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She lets her leg hang off the couch, bending for the first time in so long that she wondered if it would ever let her straighten it out again. She uses her good leg to help scoot her to the edge of the couch, closer to the coffee table.

 

This was the most vulnerable she thinks anyone had seen her since those initial days in the hospital after everything had happened. Finn had been there, holding her hand and sleeping in uncomfortable chairs every night. But they were already broken. The thing to bring them back together was not going to be the guilt he suffered over her loss. That was just another crack in their fractured foundation. So she let him drive her home and help her up into the trailer for the first time. She let him prop her leg up on a pillow and make her a cup of tea. And then, just as he’s fulfilling everything she needed in that moment, she sends him away.

 

His arguments are half-hearted. She knows he has a life to live still. He saw every day how hers was practically over already. Funny how in the end she’s living each day and he’s the one six feet under. It was the kind of humour that stung her heart and left the feeling of pin pricks behind her eyes.

 

Wick reappears before she can properly get lost in the past, plate in one hand and a cup of water in the other. Her stomach growls in response to the smell of the food but she grabs the glass from him first, downing the drink in mere seconds. She hated the feeling that clogged her mouth when she first woke up.

 

“I’ll go look at your truck as soon as I’m done,” she promises before taking her first bite. They were pancakes, standard by all measurements. But they were also hot and sticky with syrup and dripping with butter. So somehow this ordinary meal turns into the best damn thing she’s ever eaten.

 

“Don’t be stupid,” he says before she’s even swallowed the first bite. Her cutting is sloppy, her desire to fill her belly overriding her manners or even her pride. She was _hungry_ and there was a plate filled with food in front of her. “It’s getting dark out. No point in looking at it now.”

 

“I’m sure there’s a streetlight around here somewhere,” she mumbles around a bite, crumbs collecting in the corners of her mouth. She knows he doesn’t want her trying to put her brace back on and walk around on her still angry leg. She’s grateful he finds a different excuse. “I swear I’ll look at it tomorrow.”

 

Wick shrugs a shoulder and picks up the TV remote up, switching the set on and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m not worried about it.” He starts flipping through channels while she eats. He doesn’t make any comments about how she inhales her food or when she gathers the spilt butter and syrup on her fork and eats it straight from there.

 

She puts her fork down when she’s finally finished, wiping her mouth with the napkin that had been supplied. She felt almost sick, which she probably should considering the amount of pancakes she’d just wolfed down. Sighing, she moves to grab her brace. “What are you doing?” Wick asks and Raven knows that he’s been watching her this whole time, just kind enough not to make her aware of that.

 

“I think it’s time I get home.” He’d put up with her taking over his couch the entire day and then eating his food like a ravenous dog. Her welcome had long since been overstayed. Plus she needed to go home and deal with her leg in peace.

 

She sees the way he eyes her leg and tries not to hate the stare that lingers just too long. He’d seen the true damage that she dealt with. It was no longer just a limp. It was something he would think about, worry over; it was why she didn’t want anyone to know. As it was, things were bad enough walking around with an obvious limp and having this unsightly device out in the open for all to see.

 

“I mean, I _could_ take you home now,” he says but he turns his eyes back to the television and resumes his changing of channels. “Or you could watch rerurns of The Office with me and I take you home later.”

 

The answer should be obvious. Go home, soak her leg in the tub, study some maybe, or lay awake in her bed all night. Thinking…worrying…dreaming. Raven doesn’t want to like Wick. She tells herself that he’s not her friend, he’s someone who’s helping her out with a project and in turn she was performing a favour for him. But he looks at her with soft eyes and kind smiles and she remembers what it’s like to have someone to lean on. “I guess I can stay for a little bit.”

 

“Good choice,” he whispers, throwing his arms wide across the back of the couch. He laughs at all the right spots and doesn’t ask her once if she’s okay as Raven tries to move her leg in all the ways Abby had shown her so many months ago.

 

He does offer her a Hot Pocket (“shut up they’re whole wheat”) and pokes her shoulder when he wants to point something out.

 

She wonders how she got here and decides she doesn’t mind, whatever the answer may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. This one is a little bit shorter, but I hope you like where it goes. Thanks for all the kudos last chapter everyone! I'll keep churning out the chapters so long as I know I'm not the only one enjoying them!


	12. So Much More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick learns more than he should about Raven's past.

**Wick’s POV**

 

The expectations Kyle Wick had when asking Raven to fix his truck were more than exceeded by her response. He hadn’t been trying to make a move. In fact, all he was after was an excuse to drive her home from work in the below freezing temperatures.

 

When she then proceeded to sleep on his couch for nearly ten hours, he was more than a little surprised. Had it of been anyone else asleep on his couch all day, he would have been annoyed. Because it’s her though, he’s happy. Every time he walked past the living room he peered in, smiling at her peaceful face and readjusting her blanket as needed. It was a nice change of pace, having someone else there. Someone else to take care of.

 

To pass the time he did some research online, looking into a few solutions for the pressure regulator and hoping to have something to offer her when she woke up. Solving this problem didn’t really impact him. Sure, building a rocket that would actually operate would be great, but there was no significance in the accomplishment one way or the other. The one thing that kept him so tirelessly working is the fact that he knew Raven was counting on him. Even though she acted like he was the biggest idiot the western hemisphere had seen in a century, he knew she also was waiting for him to pull through for her. So he kept trying, in hopes that he might be rewarded with a one of a kind Raven Reyes smile.

 

Watching her struggle with her brace that morning had been difficult to say the least. She looked as though she was in so much pain, her face bright red and her teeth clenched. In all this time of seeing her brace and wondering about it and considering what had happened to her leg, Wick hadn’t actually thought that it could cause her so much misery. She got around so well and seemed to pay it so little attention; never did he think that the pain from it could reduce her to tears.

 

Moving to take off her brace had been a moment of both blind bravery and utter stupidity. He might not know her all that well yet, but he knew she didn’t like help. But he also knew that she hated asking for help even more than asking for it. Her relent had been worth it in the end, especially when he saw the angry red marks on her ankle where her pants had ridden up. It was unfortunate that the one thing that allowed her some form of independent mobility also caused her so much pain.

 

For sure he thought she would run off after that. When her food was gone and there had been nothing left for her, no reason for her to stay behind, he knew she’d be eager to go. But the very idea of her putting that brace back on so soon after taking it off in who knows how long…not to mention trying to walk. The thought sent fear crawling across his spine and a phantom pain shooting down his own leg. She had to know better than to try. The fact that she agreed to stay on his couch with him tells him that she was desperate.

 

Not once does she berate him as he pokes her shoulder and shares trivial information about the show or jokes on the commercials. She doesn’t always smile, but she does tolerate. That’s good enough for him.

 

When the sun is long gone and the TV has turned into a variety of different news broadcasts and terrible infomercials, Wick turns it off. He was sick of the sound more than anything else. The following silence, and almost utter darkness, leaves the room feeling heavy and tense. “I should go home,” she whispers.

 

“I’ll go warm up the truck,” he answers, not bothering to persuade her any longer. It was far past the time he ever expected her to stay.  “Be right back,” he promises, flipping on the light switch as he makes his way to the door. He shoves his feet into shoes as Raven lifts her brace, heaving her bad leg up onto the couch and stretching it out in front of her.

 

Though he’s curious, if he just had the chance to understand how that thing worked he’s convinced he could make her something more functional, he doesn’t look. He knows the leg thing is a touchy subject. There had been enough boundaries crossed without delving into that.

 

He starts the truck, cold air blasting from the vents as the engine turns over. He leans back in the seat, running a hand through his hair and trying to clear his mind. Every thought was muddled with Raven. It was as though someone took every aspect of his life and rearranged it to somehow revolve around this damn girl. He didn’t ask for this.

 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t crushed on other girls before. Lizzie Marsh in his freshman year of high school about did him in. As did his first girlfriend. She was tall and blonde and he was sixteen and in utter shock that she had agreed to date him. In college there’d been a string of girls. Many that he liked well enough, some that he took on multiple dates…most who he banged after the fact. There’d been one other girl he’d properly cared about. Emily had been the one to make him forget about himself for the first time. He lost everything in her eyes and had trouble finding it again.

 

His whole life was devoured by this girl, which wasn’t exactly the best thing to happen during his sophomore year at college. She didn’t seem to care that his entire existence became exclusively about her, she also didn’t appreciate it. She complained and bitched and didn’t care how he felt about anything one way or the other. After the fact he realised he didn’t genuinely love her. He was infatuated. She was someone in love with being admired.

 

But Raven…she was different. He wasn’t prepared for how she made him feel. He wasn’t prepared to fall so hard that he couldn’t even catch himself on the way down.

 

She makes her way downstairs after a few minutes, the air only just starting to turn from freezing fucking cold to slightly warmer than his icicles for hands. He makes a point not to watch her descend the stairs or pay attention as she heaves herself into the truck. She shivers and wraps her arms around her waist. “Seatbelt,” he reminds her. It seemed she always forgot.

 

Neither of them speak as he begins to drive away, an easy grip on the steering wheel as he leans over and switches the radio on. “What kind of music do you like?” he asks as he scans past commercials.

 

“Anything is fine,” she says so he settles on some low murmuring country. The guy drawls about lost love and his beer running out for a minute before Raven leans forward and hits the scan button again. “Correction,” she says, pausing only a second on each station before tuning to another. “Anything but _that_ is fine.”

 

Normally he might be insulted, but he can’t mind as she seeks through the stations and flops back when she finds a song. She reaches forward once more to fix the heat on her. “So no country music,” Wick nods, documenting the small bit of information for later. “I hate rap.”

 

“Tragic,” Raven says, leaning forward and scrolling through with new found determination. She stops on the hip hop station and turns it up, a wicked smile on her face. “Just so happens I like it.”

 

If a smile wasn’t lingering behind her smug expression he’d probably fight her on it. When she starts rapping along with one of the verses he knows that there’s no chance in hell that he’s touching that radio for the rest of the ride.

 

Though he’s only driven there twice, he finds his way to her place with ease. The road passes by them with only the sound of tires and the radio to fill their minds. Traffic is light, a flurry of snow beginning to fall from the sky. It was a pretty sight, though he hadn’t quite been ready for snow three weeks before Christmas.

 

“Sorry again,” Raven says as one song ends on the station and the DJ begins to speak. Wick reaches forward and dials down the volume. “About today.”

 

It’s not hard to imagine why she was apologising. In his mind though, he can’t fathom why she would. He’d been honoured to spend a bit more time with her, to learn a little more. Though their momentary closeness as he helped with her brace today had been out of necessity, he felt a little bit closer to her. Just slightly more trusted. “Don’t bother,” he says, turning onto the street for her trailer park. “It’s nice to have someone to watch reruns with.”

 

“Still,” she says, unbuckling her seat belt before he’s even turned down the road for where she lives. “I didn’t mean to take up you’re living room and not even fix your truck.”

 

“You were tired. I don’t think anyone can blame you.” Well he’s sure people _could_ but he wasn’t about to. The idea had been to try and help her anyway. At least he felt like he’d been able to do that.

 

She shrugs in response. “When will you be back at work?” Raven asks as he puts the car in park outside her place.

 

“Couple weeks,” he answers without bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. “Dayshift sucks.” She nods, as if agreeing. He knows she works the dayshift, in addition with her night shift, all the time though.

 

Raven still doesn’t move to get out of the truck. Another rap song starts playing in the background. The vulgar lyrics almost have Wick switching off the radio out of preservation of whatever innocence he had left. As if there was any.

 

“Well if you still want me to work on your truck I guess let me know…” she hesitates and he understands why. There wasn’t really a good way to let her know. “I don’t work Tuesday.”

 

Wick does work Tuesday. He’ll call Miller in the morning and beg him to switch days off. “Yeah! I mean, that should work. If you don’t mind working on your day off.”

 

The answering look she casts him tells him that she doesn’t have many days off. Perhaps she would be grateful for something to do. “Not at all. It’ll be good practice.”

 

“I’ll pick you up Tuesday morning then?”

 

Raven nods, finally moving to open her door. “That would be good.” She slides to the ground, landing fully on her right leg before allowing her left to bear any weight. “See you then.” She shuts the door and walks toward the trailer door.

 

“See you then,” Wick whispers back to himself. He notices how her house is completely dark and how no one is at the door when she walks inside.

 

He tries not to think about her being alone.

 

Instead he’s reminded of the darkness of his own apartment as he slips inside and how no one is there to greet him either.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

It takes some mild begging to get Miller to agree. Kyle had been prepared to offer his first born if he hadn’t managed to wear him down any other way. Turns out Miller took pity enough to say yes once Wick had explained the situation. It seemed that Miller might be a sap after all. Wick would make sure to let Monty know.

 

What he doesn’t expect to happen from there is the excited feeling building inside him, like a child getting ready for Christmas, or the way his stomach turned at just the thought of her.

 

She was so simple, barely anything really. But somewhere along the way Wick decided that he wanted her to be _his_ barely anything. Maybe it was the solitude finally eating him from the inside out. Maybe it was his aunt who Facebook messaged him every couple months and asked if he had a girlfriend yet. It might just be that he missed being with someone in a capacity greater than a co-worker. He’d lost so many other roles in recent years. He was eager at the opportunity to gain one. Friend was never a title that Kyle thought he’d lose. Somehow it managed to be buried in the wreckage of every other lost identity marker.

 

He does what he can to forget about her. At night he tries not to remember the way she mumbles in her sleep and during the day he does his best to forget that she’d sat there with tears in her eyes as she struggled to remove her leg brace.

 

Every day he made a point to ignore these thoughts. Push them away and pretend they didn’t exist. Something about them felt wrong, almost dirty. As if there was some sixth sense he possessed which let him know that Raven would _not_ like him thinking about how cute she was when she snored. Also, she was his friend. And friends didn’t think about each other like that.

 

Both of them seemed to need a friend. Who was he to screw that up?

 

On Saturday night he finds himself amped, unable to relax after working all day. He’s more than grateful when Monty calls, inviting him ‘out with the guys.’ Wick is quick to take up the offer.

 

“Great,” Monty says when he agrees. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you invite Miller along too. After all, you said you work with him.”

 

“You’re such a slut, Monty,” Wick jokes but doesn’t complain, calling Miller for the second time in a few days and inviting him to join.

 

He meets the group at the same place as a couple weekends ago, the scene similar as to the one he walked into then. The only difference was in the company he held. Monty looks up when Wick walks in, eyes wide when the door opens and falling with disappointment when he sees who it is.

 

“Dude,” Wick says as he slides into the booth. “Bit of suggestion. If you don’t want to look like a lovesick puppy don’t keep staring at the door.” He expects some sort of argument, but instead Monty just turns slightly red and pretends to be infatuated with the menu.

 

Kyle makes a point to greet everyone else, surprising himself by remembering everyone. Jasper sat across from Monty, drumming his fingers on the table and glancing at his phone every few minutes. Bellamy sat on the end, looking somewhat bored with everyone and nursing a beer. Lincoln just looked uncomfortable.

 

The table is silent, a lack of chatter evident as Monty keeps scanning the door and Jasper his phone. What a pathetic bunch.

 

“So,” Kyle says after a minute. He hadn’t come out to watch some nerds pine and a couple of other dudes stare down at the table. “What does everyone do for a living?” It was the sort of boring question he kind of hated to ask. It also reminded him of how old he is. Maybe he’d order a beer as well.

 

Monty and Jasper needn’t reply. Which is probably for the best since neither of them even look at him. “I work hospital security,” Lincoln answers, sitting up straighter. It dawns on Wick then how large of a man this guy is. And also the fact that everyone at this table, aside perhaps from Bellamy, works at that damn hospital. Were there no other jobs in the county?

 

“Still in school,” Bellamy answers, not elaborating on what for. “I work as a helper at a day-care centre though.” That was not what Kyle had been expecting. Bellamy hardly looked like the warm and fuzzy kid type.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jasper interjects. He finally pockets his phone. “But Bellamy here is just a big old softy. Ask Clarke if you don’t believe me.”

 

The death glare Jasper receives is enough to make him scoot further against the wall, as if it could protect him from Bellamy. “Please,” Monty interjects. He was talking more to Jasper than anyone else. “Find any woman and Bellamy is as limp as a noodle.” Kyle tries not to laugh. He really does. “Octavia?” Monty says by way of example.  “Even Raven for that matter.”

 

That dries up the laughter no problem. “Raven?” Wick is asking before he can filter his words. The word to him was like a trigger. Hear it once and he couldn’t help but hone in. “How did you meet her anyway?”

 

Now Monty is giving him some devilish look with wiggling eyebrows. Jokes on him though, while he’s making that ridiculous face Miller joins them in the booth. “Hey guys,” Miller greets with a nod in everyone’s direction before picking up a menu. Wick almost feels bad for Monty that he doesn’t receive any sort of special recognition.

 

Not bad enough to deter him from his earlier question. He turns back to face Bellamy, question on the tip of his tongue when he’s next interrupted by the waitress. When it comes his turn to order he asks for a beer and the first thing on the menu. His patience was wearing thin.

 

Once she’s gone conversation picks up amongst everyone for a moment. Wick waits until there’s the slightest lull before repeating her question. “How’d you meet Raven again?”

 

Perhaps it’s a bit obvious, at least Bellamy seems to think so as he kind of shoots him a look. Wick doesn’t particularly care though. Not right now at least. “I guess the way most of us met her,” he says, scanning around the table as everyone either shrugged or nodded. “Finn.”

 

The question burns in his mouth. He considers biting his tongue and letting this die out. It was most likely information Raven wouldn’t want him to have anyway. She was always so private. “Who’s Finn?” He considers it, but his desire to know the answer wins out.

 

“He was her best friend since forever,” Jasper volunteers. “Then at some point they started dating. It was kind of just the natural progression of things.”

 

“Octavia always said that Raven loved Finn as if there was no one else in the world to care about,” Lincoln volunteers. “She said that no matter how hard she tried to get Raven to open up she knew that it would never happen when she had Finn to rely on.”

 

“I don’t want to say he was all she cared about but…” Jasper says and then dies out.

 

Bellamy interrupts before he can carry on. “She’s always been the reserved type. I didn’t pay her much attention when we were younger, but she was different than everyone else in school.” Wick can tell there’s information he’s leaving out, but he doesn’t press. “Finn made her a little more human. It was like she couldn’t function without him.”

 

Kyle tries to picture the image of this girl that they’re painting.  He attempts and fails to envision Raven as a dependent girl who needed one person alone to turn her into herself. It didn’t add up with the person he knew. Then again, he figures, people change. “Well what happened?”

 

The group almost collectively sighs and moves to stare down at something else. “Well that’s the story for how we met Clarke,” Bellamy answers after a minute.

 

Someone brings Wick his beer and he thanks them quietly, not hesitating to drink. It tasted a bit like piss, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The guilt of asking these questions was getting to him, as were the answers he had a feeling he was not going to like.

 

“She moved to town a couple of summers ago, right after school had ended. She didn’t socialise much, none of us even knew she existed.” Bellamy cuts off, shaking his head. “Finn was volunteering at the hospital that summer. Clarke did the same.”

 

Kyle felt very certain he knew exactly where this was going.

 

“Clarke didn’t know any better,” Bellamy says, clearing his throat and going back to his drink.

 

Jasper moves to pick up where he’d left off. “Finn essentially started dating Clarke too. A couple months in Raven went to go visit him at the hospital one day and saw them…canoodling.”

 

“Shit,” Wick breathes out, shaking his head. “What a jackass.”

 

“We’re not done.” As if there could be anything worse. “She was furious, of course. Clarke broke up with him immediately. Shit went down with Raven’s leg and Finn did what he could to get back on her good side.”

 

“We figure he felt guilty,” Monty volunteers. “After all, he not only cheated on his girlfriend but then she ended up with a screwed up leg. It wasn’t a good few months for Raven.”

 

The food comes, cutting off the conversation for a minute as everyone accepts their food and thank the waiter. “Anyways,” Jasper says, dunking a mozzarella stick in some marinara and taking a bite. “None of us know exactly what went down but we know she broke up with him for good like, the day she got out of the hospital.”

 

“Good for her,” Wick considers, taking a bite out of his burger and being pleasantly surprised.

 

“Still not done,” Lincoln grunts as he dumps some ketchup on his plate.

 

“From like, December to July Finn was just kind of there without being here,” Bellamy starts up again, concentration focused on his food more than the conversation. “He was around at school Clarke said, but she didn’t talk to him much. Apparently him and Raven were still friends? No one really knows what was going on with those two at that point.”

 

The whole table grows silent then. No one makes a move to continue eating; no one even so much as clears their throat. “And then?” he prompts. Again something in the back of his mind reminds him that Raven wouldn’t want these people spilling her secrets, her history. He knows that this should be information that he gets from her, not a bunch of guys he barely knows. But he can’t stop them now. These few pieces have already helped him to connect Raven a little more clearly.

 

“And then Clarke was driving him home some night in July, they both still worked at the hospital,” Monty says, playing with the french fries on his plate but not eating any. “Some guy blew through a red light and smashed into Finn’s side of the car. There was some metal or glass or something that went straight through his ribs and into his heart, which is just bad luck if you ask me.”

 

Jasper must kick Monty under the table as he jumps slightly and then stops talking. Bellamy takes a breath and finishes. “He bled out as soon as they tried to remove it in the operating room. He died and Raven never recovered.”

 

People died all the time. Of all people, Wick understood that. Life was fleeting, there was no promise that you would live to see tomorrow. It was harder to think of the people left behind. It was harder to think of Raven, so in love with one person, to lose him so completely. “Wow,” he finally mutters after a minute. His burger looked much less appealing than before.

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy answers in a gruff voice. He clears his throat and takes a long draw of beer. “It was a rough time for everyone.” But it was the hardest for Raven. The words go unspoken. They hover in the air regardless.

 

That night Wick drives home. Raven intrudes every thought as he tries to make sense of the girl he knew and the girl she apparently once was. She was now someone composed of disappointment and tragedy.

 

Maybe it was wrong for him to have this new information regarding his tenuous friend, but he goes to bed that night knowing she deserved so much more. From him, from her friends, and from the universe itself. She deserved so much fucking more. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t the one to make sure she got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know this one is both long and lacking much Raven/Wick interaction. Hopefully the bit of information that's revealed makes up for a little!


	13. You Get Too Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven thinks what she wants is very different from what she needs.

**Raven’s POV**

 

Several days after everything: waking up in Wick’s living room, him helping unstrap her brace, her staying just because…the after affects leave her mind reeling. A series of things had taken place that day that she had never intended to let happen. She didn’t like the idea of having slept on his couch for hours on end. She despised the memory of his face as he took in her vulnerable position and the grimace that comprised her face. She abhorred the way she fell back and let him help her out of her brace. She cringed at the idea of sitting next to him, brace off, carrying on with conversations and jokes and laughter. As if he was her friend. As if she wanted him to be.

 

The thought she grappled with the most was that maybe she did. After all this time of being alone she had grown weary. Being alone wasn’t what anyone wanted. Pretending only got you through for so long. Being alone was hard. It was harder than dealing with her leg or fighting with her mother. It was a weight that never lessened, only grew.

 

At the same time, it was what she needed. She may want companionship. But she needed to remind herself that she was fine on her own. Not because of Finn, god she was so tired of everything being about Finn, and not because of her mother either. It was because there had once been a point in her life when she didn’t know if she _could._ So much like she built a rocket in a portion of an abandoned hospital to prove that she was capable, she now stood all on her own.

 

Every struggle was another chance to convince herself that she was capable. Every bad day was one more opportunity to attest to the world itself that Raven Reyes was not going to lie down and take anymore bullshit. Nor was she going to ask someone to help her up.

 

Sometimes she had no choice but to remind herself of this. There were nights when she had to look back and recall all that she had lived through and use that knowledge to continue to fight for her future. She didn’t want to lean on anyone else. The last time she’d done that she’d fallen so hard she never knew if she was going to get back up again. It was the sort of fear that left her paralysed. Unfortunately that metaphor was more literal than she’d ever hoped.

 

Raven was well aware of what Wick wanted. She saw the way he looked at her. She knew what it meant when boys drove you home and found ways to talk to you. She was protective, not stupid.

 

Maybe that meant that she should put an end to it. There would be no easier way to shut him down than to just say, “Never gonna happen,” and then leave it at that. It could be that she liked the attention. Or that she wanted to fool herself into believing there was any chance something could happen. Having him there to help her out of her brace, it was humiliating and terrible, but it also had left her with a flood of relief washing through her very bones. It felt like she wasn’t alone in this damn injury for the first time since it had happened.

 

It would be hard to forget the way Finn used to look at her after she woke up in the hospital. The first time she saw she had flaws had been through his eyes. She never managed to look it in any other way since then. A piece of her was missing. Still there, but so useless it might as well just be gone.

 

Much like everything else in her life, she clung to it regardless.

 

Her feeble friendship was more of the same. Her false hope clinging on so hard it’d just leave her with more marks down the road.

 

So she does what she can not to think about Tuesday. Raven doesn’t think about the warmth of Wick’s truck cabin as she walks from one job to the next in the early morning. She doesn’t think about his soft couch and subpar pancakes as she hides in her bedroom at night, stomach growling.

 

The excitement for more- more time, more safety, more _him-_ she pushes it down. Instead she reminds herself that she’s made a mistake. She forces the knowledge that she’s being foolish and careless and when it comes back to bite her, it’s her own damn fault. It was disappointment waiting to happen. She was determined to revel in everything that took place before the tragic end.

 

Tuesday morning eventually rolls around, after many sleepless nights and tireless days. Raven wakes up with the help of no alarm and even does a full rotation of her leg exercises. She hardly wanted another embarrassing removal of her brace again.

 

She quietly eats a somewhat bruised apple as she watches out the window for his green truck. Her eyes flit back to her mother’s bedroom door every few minutes. Raven was hopeful to leave before her mother woke up. Mornings were generally rough. Then again, so were nights.

 

Drumming her fingers nervously on the table, Raven sits down, stretching her leg out in front of her and trying to tamper down the feeling that kept climbing its way up. The idea that he’s forgotten flashes through her mind. How stupid would she feel if she sat her for the next two hours without him ever showing up? It had been stupid of them not to set a time. There, of course, was no way to rectify that now.

 

Her heart beats a little faster when she hears a car approaching. It’s not his truck. She stumbles up from the table, her feet unsteady and her movements too dramatic. It knocks the chair off balance but she grabs it before it falls.

 

She was losing her mind, sitting at a kitchen table hoping for someone to drive around the corner. It was unlikely he even remembered. It was silly that she had fixated. She’s ready to stumble back off to her room, rip off the stupid brace and get back in bed. She hardly ever had a day off like this. She shouldn’t be spending it helping someone she barely knew anyway.

 

Before she can get anywhere, her mom’s bedroom door opens. Raven freezes. Her eyes betray her and scan outside of the window once again. Of course there was no one there.

 

“Raven is that you?” her mother calls out, stumbling her way out to the kitchen and blocking the sunlight with her hand. “Why are the fucking curtains open?” she asks which translates to, close them. Raven doesn’t waste a second.

 

She also doesn’t miss the sound of a glass being set on the countertop or the sound of a drink being poured. Somehow she doubted it was orange juice. “Aren’t you working today?” her mother complains, placing the bottle of amber liquid back in the cupboard.

 

“I-“ Raven starts and then pauses. She didn’t really know the answer. “I’m helping fix a friend’s car.” Or at least she was supposed to. She considers throwing her coat on and pretending to her mother that she was walking there. She could hide out in the library or maybe visit Octavia.

 

Her mother sets her glass down with a little too much force. Raven jumps without meaning to. “That’s not going to pay the bills, now is it?” she asks, eyes shifting around the house as if looking for a visual representation of the bills she was referencing. Then she stops and picks up her glass again. “You know I want you to be happy, Raven, but you have to think about these things.”

 

“I know,” she mumbles. The anger bubbles but the guilt stomps it down. “I have some extra overtime on my check from the hospital.”

 

Her mom smiles, it’s sweet and loving as the harsh lines soften. “That’s my girl,” she kisses Raven’s cheek. Raven turns away from the scent of alcohol falling past her lips.

 

 A knock on the door makes her jump. “That’s my friend,” Raven says, angling her body in front of the door to prevent her mother from getting to it. “I’ll be home before work tonight, okay?”

 

“Don’t be rude,” her mom says, tone harsh as she tries to reach past Raven. “Invite your friend in, offer her a drink.”

 

“We need to go,” she breathes out, not bothering to try and grab her lightweight jacket as she twists to open the door. She slides outside and shuts the door in one fluid motion, keeping her hand tight on the doorknob to prevent it from opening again. “Hey, let’s go.”

 

“Aren’t you freezing?” Wick asks, not fucking moving.

 

“ _Let’s go,_ ” she says again, her voice low and almost pleading as she looks to his truck. He turns and she releases the doorknob once he’s already a few steps away. Of course it immediately flies open.

 

“I didn’t raise you to be rude,” her mother spits out as she comes stumbling through the door. The damn glass is still clasped in her hand and her bathrobe hangs loosely on her frame.

 

Raven sighs, casting Wick a desperate look as she turns back to her mom. “He doesn’t have time to come in. Please,” she begs, hanging her head in defeat. “Just go back inside.”

 

“You failed to mention your friend here was a boy, sweetie,” she states, her glazed over stare now on Wick. “And his truck seems to be running just fine.”

 

The anxiety climbs, her embarrassment revelled by the immediate panic of the situation. “Mom, just go back inside the house.”

 

“Are you worried if he sees the dump we live in he won’t sleep with you anymore?” she asks and even though the claim is ridiculous Raven’s face still flushes red. “If some man is going to judge where you live then he isn’t worth your time. I’ve had plenty of men over now, haven’t I, Raven?”

 

She has all sorts of biting comments about the winners brought into their home. Of the great men she’d seen and felt and hid from. Her heart beats even faster at just the thought of all those glorious, non-judgemental men filling her house. “Go inside,” she says instead, her voice thick with tears that keep rising without her consent. “I’m leaving.”

 

There are no words or movements for so long. Raven waits for someone to make a move; even if it was the earth itself to just swallow her whole, but nothing happens. She turns to leave, moving too quickly down the three steps that led to the ground and stumbling slightly. She sees the way Wick goes to move towards her but once she’s balanced again he backs off, getting into the truck and turning the engine over. “Go in the house and close the door,” Raven directs before opening the door for the truck. “You’ll freeze out here.”

 

She doesn’t stand around to watch and see if her mom listens. She swings open the door and climbs in the truck. Wick doesn’t wait to drive away. She’s glad when she turns around and finds no one standing on the front step to her trailer.

 

“Raven…” he starts, all quiet, sympathetic voice.

 

“Shut the hell up, Wick,” she demands before he can even get started. She had been embarrassed. The things she worked so hard to keep tightly locked away were beginning to pop out. That was why people didn’t come to her house. There was a reason she hadn’t ever wanted him to drive anywhere near there.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says without any explanation. He utters those two simple, useless words and then he stops talking.

 

Raven doesn’t know what to do with them. They just repeat in her head as she stares out the window. She was sorry too.

 

\-----------------------------

 

They get to his place and she tells him to park where she can work on his truck. “I don’t need to go inside for anything.” She crushes the possibility before it could even begin grow.

 

It’s freezing out and with no coat she’s shivering before she’s swung the door all the way open.“I’ll go get my tools,” Wick tells her and she nods, crossing her arms and tucking her hands into her armpits for some form of warmth.

 

For a brief moment she considers just walking away. She couldn’t run, oh how she wishes she could, but she was at least still able to walk. It’d be easy; she could disappear back to the main road before he made it back down. He might come after her but she could just duck into the pharmacy up the street.

 

Hiding was her instinct. Sticking around was what got her into trouble.

 

He’s back before Raven’s taken a single step to get away.

 

There’s more than just tools in his hands. There’s a puffy red jacket and a thermos and a plastic bag. “I know engineers sometime lack basic knowledge of how mechanics work, but this is a little sad, even for you.”

 

“You’ll freeze your ass off like that,” he says with a gesture to her jeans and thin shirt. “I’m not going to be responsible for you catching double pneumonia.”

 

They stare off for a minute before she caves. It was freezing after all. She takes the jacket first; half tempted to shove her hands in the pockets once she’s got it on. Fighting the urge she reaches out and takes the other items instead.

 

“Here’s the oil filter and stuff,” he says offering the plastic bag out to her.

 

“Great,” she mumbles. “Put the stuff over there.” He does as she instructs and she sets the thermos on the ground as well. She pulls up the hood of the truck and props it open, taking a look at what she was working with. It was always a bit of a puzzle. Always made up with the same basic parts but every vehicle had their own nuances. The trick was finding out exactly how it would all piece together.

 

Her focus is solely on the work in front of her but she can still feel him hovering. He was far enough away that he wasn’t technically leaning over her shoulder but close enough that she could sense his presence with the way her hairs seemed to stand on end. “Can I help you?” she asks. She couldn’t spin to face him; her stupid leg prevented the most trivial of things. She turns arduously instead.

 

“I’m not just going to leave you out here,” he says, as if the idea was ludicrous. “I can help, after all.”

 

“I don’t do help,” she argues immediately. It’s not that she intends for her tone to be so sharp, but she doesn’t necessarily mind that it is. “I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

 

“I’m good,” he says, infuriating her further. “I’ll just watch.”

 

“Wick-“ she’s ready to just cuss him out, send him away out of anger and frustration and humiliation. “Just go away.”

 

“It’s freezing out here,” he responds, as if that’s any form of reason.

 

“All the more motivation for going inside,” she tells him, turning back to the exposed engine of his car. She could feel the tears welling and she loathed them. It was one thing when the sprung to her eyes from the sharp sting of pain. It was another when it was just her weak heart, tired after so many beatings.

 

He still doesn’t budge. His hand comes up to rest on her shoulder after a minute. She wonders if the way her eyes are watering is noticed. “I’m not just going to leave you alone.”

 

She hates him for that statement. She doesn’t care what capacity it’s being said in. She doesn’t care if he means right now in the icy chill or in general. The words burn in all the wrong ways, devouring alive her protective shields and wearing down her defences. Who was he to make such claims? “Get the hell away, Wick,” she warns, her tone low. “I don’t want you here. Okay?”

 

“Maybe you don’t want anyone but-“

 

If she could she would turn so dramatically it would leave him knocked off his feet. Instead she’s forced once again to take small steps to turn her body to face him. “I’m here to do a job,” she reminds him. He was taller than her, so many inches above her short stature, but she stands tall and she feels as though she can tower above him. “You are not my friend. You are not some knight in shining armour or the light at the end of the goddamn tunnel. Give up your romantic notions and get the fuck away from me.”

 

Her jaw clicks. His breaths come faster. “I’ll be inside when you’re done,” he says quietly and turns away from her.

 

Once he’s gone inside the building she picks up the closest thing she can find and throws it as hard as she can, the tool making a satisfying sound as metal hits blacktop.

 

Desire is trumped by mortification.

 

Mortification is trumped by anger.

 

And in the end, anger is trumped by sadness.

 

Her tears spill onto the exposed engine beneath her. She lets them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post tonight but then I figured, why not? So here you go. Let me know your thoughts. I know the chapter is a fair amount of introspection but I feel as though there is some solid progression as well. I'm interested to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Also, anyone else watch the teaser clip that came out today? Don't want to spoil it for those who have yet to watch, but any theories on her and Abby's conversation? She seemed pissed about something, that's for sure.


	14. Sticks and Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick tries not to feel like a beaten puppy and mainly fails

**Wick's POV**

 

Until the night at the restaurant everything had been muddled, yet easy enough to navigate. Befriending Raven was hardly an easy road; somehow Wick had made it work so far regardless. After though, after that night everything is dark and confusing and yet also clear. Some aspects make sense, as much as he hates it, while others are further buried into mystery.

 

One thing is clear-Raven had been abandoned. First it had been by someone’s choice. Then it was by the sort of force that was unstoppable, despite what anyone may want. This knowledge shouldn’t change anything; he knows she wouldn’t want it to. But now he thinks more before he speaks. He considers her viewpoint before he judges. Things had changed, maybe only for him, but he hardly expected them to shift back.

 

Tuesday morning hadn’t started great. He slept through his alarm and then he realised the milk was expired and of course there’s construction on the road he tries to take to Raven’s. He’s amped before he even gets to her house and then she’s panicked and it throws his own heart into overdrive, getting worried for her.

 

Her mom had been both everything he had expected and nothing that he had hoped. A better person might step in. He just stands there dumbly throughout their whole interaction. He notices the defeat in Raven’s voice and the concern in her glance. Once they’re both in the truck and driving away, he doesn’t miss how she turns in her seat, watching her mother until they’ve turned the corner and she’s gone from sight.

 

Because he knows things he shouldn’t, there are words he wants to say. There were apologies that nearly burst with desperation to be spoken. Her life had been so unfair. Her losses had been so great.

 

He was sorry that her mom wasn’t a proper mom. He was sorry that her dad was nowhere in sight. He was sorry that the one person who cared about her first left her and then died on her. He was so damn sorry about so many things and he knew she would hate every apology. He knew she would resent him for every pitying thought and sympathizing glance. So he doesn’t delve into specifics. He doesn’t ask if she’s okay as she sits in his truck with tears pooling in her eyes and her hand tap, tap tapping on her brace. He says two words that mean nothing at all and yet say everything he needs. “I’m sorry.”

 

She doesn’t answer.

 

\---------------------------------

 

_Stick and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me._ The dumb childhood chant repeats in his mind. All the while his stomach clenches and his head aches so bad he feels like it might just explode. He analyses the line over again, picking apart each lie from the stupid thing. Words hurt. Rejection stung. Failing left a pile of wreckage.

 

He had tried to do everything right. He put water on to boil so she could have something warm to drink and he gave her that jacket. That damn jacket that had sat in a box for years now, useless but needed for whatever reason. He wanted to stay with her. Her morning had clearly been even worse than his. Leaving her there felt like a dick move.

 

She would hate the way he thinks, how he thinks of abandonment when he considers leaving her out in the cold while he sits inside his toasty apartment. But he can’t help it. So he fights her. He fights her in a way that he normally wouldn’t because she wants this dammit. She wants someone to stay with her. He knows she must…right?

 

He has far less conviction after her words pierce his heart and cause all of his feelings to stagger back.

 

_“You are not my friend,”_ she had stated with venom in her voice and fire in her eyes. They were the words that struck him down and shot all of his ideals dead. One sentence and he already felt weaker.

 

_“You are not my knight in shining armour,”_ she declared, as though she had seen his very thoughts. Raven knew what he assumed. She must see the hope in his eyes, the desire in his smile, and the sadness in his heart. She knows what he wants for her and she resents him for it. Maybe because she doesn’t want it for herself. More likely it’s because she thinks she can’t have it.

 

_“Or the light at the end of the goddamn tunnel.”_ You can’t save me, she implies. Darkness is what she’s comfortable with. He is hardly the one to lead her out. She never asked for that. She doesn’t believe it could happen. Maybe, she doesn’t even want it to happen.

 

_“Give up your romantic notions.”_ The chivalrous thoughts and hopeful plans. She doesn’t want him to think that way. She doesn’t want him to expect anything to change. Especially not because of him.

 

_“Get the fuck away from me.”_  Those words were the ones he didn’t question. That was where the warning was buried and the demand was clear. There was no need for interpretation. He followed instructions, feeling a bit like a puppy who’d been smacked on the nose with a newspaper as he walked away.

 

Her words had been harsh. Maybe he should have been expecting it, she was rough around the edges after all, but so much of his life had been consumed by _her_ as of recent that he struggled to consider she might feel this way.

 

After his night out with the guys Wick worried that he was turning Raven into another Emily, a senseless infatuation that consumed his very being with someone else. He was worried that he had turned Raven into some mystery to be solved or a case to crack. That he was stripping away her humanity in his attempt to discover what made her the way she is.

 

It was a senseless worry he ultimately decided. She wasn’t just something to be uncovered, she was something to be cherished. For Wick, her past wasn’t the priority. He wanted to help her have a better future. So many times he felt locked in where he was. A job that was going nowhere but up was great, except that now it felt like there was no other choice and now more than ever he wanted something different, something more.

 

Watching Raven turn in on herself, disappear behind a wall of her own making, it made him worry she would never break out. He didn’t want her future to remain stuck behind a desk at the local hospital.

 

But sometimes he needed to be reminded that she wasn’t his to worry about. Maybe she didn’t have anyone else but, as she so eloquently pointed out today, that didn’t mean that he was elected by default. She had other friends; he saw how much they cared about her. Surely if she wanted someone to look out for her and if she wanted someone to lean on, she could have found them before now. He wasn’t anything special. He didn’t care any more or less than her other friends even. He just hadn’t experienced her cold, determined rejection.

 

Not until this morning at least.

 

Maybe he had the best of intentions, but they did neither of them any good if she wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

 

Something broke between them today. But maybe it was through the breaking that something real could be forged. It might take time, healing always did after all, but Wick was optimistic. She could shut him out all she wanted, that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying to get in.

 

The harsh reality was that things were not right for Raven Reyes. Wick could see that. Sure there were the obvious things, like her leg or the encounter with her mother, but also in the way her pants always hung off her hips a little too much and the heavy bags that were a constant beneath her eyes. He’d be damned if he didn’t do what he could, what she would let him, to try and improve those things.

 

He waits inside, just in the vestibule. He didn’t want her to have to trek up the steps when she was done just to announce that she’d finished and then limp her way back downstairs so he could drive her home. Plus he didn’t like the idea of her being out there on her own all this time. Sure, it wasn’t that bad of a neighbourhood, but she was vulnerable and people had the potential to suck everywhere.

 

After a few hours of sitting on stairs and drumming his fingers on the banister, Wick does make his way back up to his apartment. Despite how much he knows Raven will hate him for it, he dumps a can of soup into a pot and lets it slowly heat. He was starving and by now she must be a literal ice cube. It was a win/win sort of meal. Well, aside from the part where she dumped it on him for bringing it to her.

 

He pours them both a bowl and sticks a spoon in each one. Getting them outside was the real struggle. Wick nearly ended up with a tomato soup bath on his foot as he tried to open the door. He makes it out there somehow and walks toward where he had left Raven and his truck.

 

The toolbox sits on the curb and the empty plastic bag is sandwiched in place beneath it. Wick looks for Raven, setting the bowls down and peering under the truck as well as checking the inside, even in the bed of the truck. She’s not there. He’s about to go back inside, search for her there and see if he somehow missed her on his journey outside. Finally the paper struggling beneath the windshield wiper garners his attention.

 

He snatches it off, recognising it as the receipt that had been in the plastic bag.

 

“ _Should be all fixed. Hope she runs well for you.”_

She signed her name at the bottom and wrote nothing else. He realises then that it’s because she’s gone. She ran away without goodbye. He expected a lot of different reactions from her. Somehow he never considered that her leaving would be the outcome.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of update yesterday! My weekend ended up getting a little crazier than expected and this chapter needed a fair amount of editing so I didn't want to rush it. As it stands currently I'm afraid it's little more than introspective thoughts. Apologies for that, to make up for it I'll post earlier tomorrow so you have an actual chapter to enjoy.
> 
> Thank you to all of you commenting and leaving kudos. It's super fun reading other's interpretations and feelings on certain events and characters!


	15. No One Gave You Permission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven feels too many things in one day and wishes she just didn't feel anything at all.

**Raven's POV**

Some might consider it cowardice to run away from Wick. Raven considered it far braver than sticking around.

 

Wick made her weak. He left her craving things that she knew she could not have. By staying around and attempting to gather anymore of those false hopes, she was only fooling herself over what was later to come. _That_ would be childlike fear controlling her. She could not allow for those desires to be met or else she would become that much more vulnerable. She had enough to carry. The last thing she needed was to lose the strength to bear it.

 

Home isn’t where she wants to go when she leaves Wick’s on Tuesday. The day had grown slightly warmer as it had gone on. Still she buried her hands deep in the coat that he had offered her. She felt slightly guilty for taking off with it, but she’d worked with numb fingers on his truck for nearly three hours free of payment. As far as she was concerned, she earned it.

 

At first her plan had been to duck into the first place that sold any hot beverage and sit there, drinking half decent coffee and running through her plan of action. Wick was in her life in some weird way, tethered to her in the form of a model rocket. She needed to figure out how to sever that tie.

 

But McDonalds is too busy and she knows people who work in the local Starbucks so she just keeps walking. It’s not as though she wasn’t used to it. A small part of her feels guilty for leaving that note behind. She knows how Wick thinks about these things. After all, she’d been on the receiving end of his freak outs more than once. His reactions were generally a bit grandiose. Odds were he was equal parts worried over her and mad at himself. It wasn’t his fault that things were ending this way. It wasn’t even hers either. It just was.

 

Her feet lead her to one of the last places she thought she would end up. Raven wasn’t the type to seek out solace and, if she did, she never sought it from someone else. Peace was found in the form of hot tea and soft blankets, not friends and family.

 

But warm water doesn’t feel like enough to heal her right now and the blankets were in a place she couldn’t get to. Raising her hand she knocks four solid times, each beat calculated.

 

Perhaps she didn’t think anyone would answer. She steps back in surprise when Clarke swings the door wide. “Hey, Raven,” she says. She stands there in her pyjamas, eyebrows raised as she takes Raven in. “Come on in.” The door opens wider and Raven steps through out of instinct.

 

“Sorry to just show up,” she says. Her words didn’t feel like they were coming from her. They felt like a stranger’s own composition of sounds and syllables and meanings. Everything hurts the longer she stands there, Clarke watching her. There’s no explanation to offer. “I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

 

“Whoa, hey,” Clarke says, reaching out to stop her before she made it back to the door. “I’m literally doing nothing. Why don’t I make us lunch and we can watch a movie or something?”

 

Raven nods and she wonders not for the first time how she ever managed to make friends like these. The answer for almost all of them was Finn. He was their friend first. She had just come along with the package. The story is a little different with Clarke. Finn was still the catalyst, but the overall reaction was her and Clarke’s own doing. “How’s school?” she asks as Clarke leads her to the kitchen.

 

Raven doesn’t hesitate to situate herself on a barstool as Clarke pulls a frying pan from the cabinet. “Just finished my third semester yesterday, actually,” she answers with a grimace. “Thank god.”

 

She understands Clarke’s relief for a break. A part of her still twinges with jealousy. Clarke had so much and she didn’t seem to realise it half the time.  “How about you? How’s work?”

 

The questions were always the same. She hated them every time. “It’s work,” Raven consents with a shrug.

 

“That’s how I feel about school,” Clarke responds, nodding absently as she focuses on the bread she butters. “It’d be different if it was what I wanted but…” she fades off, looking at Raven as if she’d forgotten who she was talking to. Clarke shakes her head and fills the gap of silence with a smile. “Sorry if the house is kind of a mess, by the way. Mom’s been working extra hours and Dad and I aren’t very good at the whole cleaning thing.”

 

Raven laughs. “Trust me, your place is plenty clean.” She thinks of the summer when roaches wouldn’t stop crawling up the kitchen sink in the trailer and of the week when all of the water that came from their pipes was murky brown. There was also the white powder she vacuumed up from the carpet or the constant stench of weed that seemed to permeate the couch.  “How is your mom?”

 

Clarke sighs, “She’s…she’s happy with how well I’m doing in school.” It’s one of the most vague, indirect answers Raven thinks she could have given. She accepts it regardless. “She talks about you though.” What was with these Griffin women and talking about her to each other? “She really worries about your leg.”

 

At the mention of her leg Raven feels every muscle in her body tense. That was not a topic of conversation for which she approved. “She shouldn’t,” Raven grumbles. “I’m fine.”

 

“That’s what I tell her,” she says with a smile and an offering of a grilled cheese sandwich. “Not the most gourmet but in addition with not being good at cleaning…let’s just say my cooking is subpar.”

 

Raven nearly comments on how it’s a good thing that Bellamy is a halfway decent of a cook but bites her tongue. The constant teasing about those two’s tenuous relationship was supposed to remain between her and Octavia. Clarke probably wouldn’t be quite as amused. “It’s good to me,” Raven says around a bite of sandwich.

 

“We can eat in the living room,” Clarke says as if Raven would have thought otherwise. She’d never really thought that there might be families where that wasn’t allowed. “Mom only cares right after she gets the carpets cleaned.” Clarke leads her to the couch and sits down, crossing her legs beneath her. Raven sits on the edge and leaves her legs stretched out in front.

 

Much like the night at Wick’s the television is switched on and Clarke starts flipping through the channels. “We have some DVDs if there’s nothing on TV.”

 

“How is everyone?” Raven asks after her sandwich is gone and more scrolling of the channels occurs. “I haven’t seen anyone since we last went out.”

 

“As if anything news worthy has happened since then,” Clarke says with a roll of her eyes.  She seems to get the hint that Raven didn’t really want to watch television right now. It was easy to turn on the TV and forget about conversation, most of the time that’s what Raven wanted. Today though, she was eager for some interaction. “Bellamy is still being crazy with Octavia and she’s about to lose it on him, nothing new though.”

 

“Can’t say I blame him,” Raven admits though she can only imagine how angry O probably was at her brother. Raven knew where Bellamy was coming from though. You want to trust someone but it isn’t always easy. Protect them for their own good, instead of letting them loose to screw up all over again. She wished she had that sort of control over her situation.

 

“Yeah, he’s been working a lot of hours though. I think he’s tiring himself out between the worrying and the working.” Clarke glances to her phone as soon as the words pass her lips, as though he would magically text her to assure her otherwise.

 

“Does he still like working with the kids?”

 

Clarke smiles, blissfully unaware of how much like a lovesick girl she looked. “Yeah, he’s great with them too. Apparently he’s potty trained one of the boys and is helping one little girl with reading.”

 

It was impressive. Raven couldn’t even look at a child for too long before needing a break. She admired people who were good with kids. “So he’s sticking with the whole teaching thing?”

 

Clarke nods, “Yeah, he’s hoping to finish his degree next year.”

 

It was so hard not to resent these two. Their lives were on track, plans being made. Raven didn’t remember the last plan that she had which extended past when rent was due.

 

“How are you doing?” Clarke asks after a few beats of silence. The question is heavy, her words filled with sincerity.

 

Another shrug, a sigh, this question never got better. There was no real easy answer. “In relation to what?” she asks. Her eyes fall to her lap and she picks at a string that hangs from the borrowed coat.

 

Normally people asked her about her leg, her work hours, sometimes people tried to question about her family but she shut them down so quickly no one even knew what to ask. Instead of any of the usual Clarke says quietly, “Finn.”

 

“Oh,” Raven answers in surprise. Even after all this time the sound of his name sends the air from her lungs, her heart stammering in its attempt to beat right again. The night he died everything stopped working as it should. It had yet to figure out how to function correctly again. “I forget sometimes.”

 

“Forget?” Clarke asks. It sounded cold to put it like that, after all.

 

But she nods in answer. “Yeah, I forget what it was like to ever have him.” It was a game she started playing when she’d been the one to send him away for good. The game transitioned to her life less than six months later. It was like a cruel joke. “I forget that I miss him, and when I remember I pretend that I don’t.”

 

Of all people, Raven hopes Clarke is someone who can understand. She’d been in the car when it had happened. She’d been the one who was forced to call the ambulance. She was the last familiar face he saw before he died. Often times that thought dredged up more bitter feelings. Raven tried to tamper them down. “He did love you, Raven.”

 

It’s not Clarke’s place to comment. She has no room to make those claims or determine such observations. Raven didn’t need her to point that out. She knew Finn loved her, never doubted it for a second. Clarke would never understand that piece of their relationship. Raven wished that she wouldn’t try. “Yes,” she agrees quietly. “He did love me.” That’s all she cares to say on the matter.

 

Of course he loved her. He knew there was no one else to do it.

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

Time with Clarke isn’t what Raven might call easy. Many times she feels uncomfortable; sometimes she stumbles in an effort to find words. Clarke had a way of pushing the boundaries a little too far and asking questions that she had no right to wonder about. But that afternoon she gave Raven exactly what she needed. She wasn’t alone. That was all that mattered.

 

Once the sun has set Raven knows she should start the walk home. She had to be at the hospital tonight. Abby comes busting through the front door before she has a chance to flee.

 

“Hey Mom,” Clarke says without looking up from her phone. She’d been carefully crafting a text message for the last ten minutes. Raven wasn’t generally one to sneak, but it was hard to miss Bellamy’s name at the top of the screen.

 

“Hi, Dr. Griffin.” Her voice is shy, words hesitant. It wasn’t often that she was in someone else’s house, especially not someone who had parents around. Since her arrival had been unannounced to Clarke, she was concerned Abby hadn’t gotten the memo either.

 

“Raven!” she exclaims, no hint of anger on her features. In fact, she is the embodiment of happiness. She drops her briefcase to the ground followed by her purse and then proceeds to kick off her shoes. “It’s so nice to see you, sweetheart.”  She walks over and kisses Clarke on the forehead who waves her off in response. She squeezes Raven’s shoulder as she walks by. “I didn’t know you were coming over. What have you two been up to?”

 

Raven has her apology for her unannounced arrival all worked out but then Clarke jumps in and says, “Not much. How was work?” and that’s the end of that.

 

Abby goes into a story about a man who came into the ER because he was dizzy and ended needing his skull cap removed because of cerebral hypertension, or something equally terrifying.

 

“I should go,” Raven says once there’s a lull in conversation. “Thanks for letting me hang out, Clarke.”

 

Clarke gets up running a hand through her mussed up hair. She throws her phone down on the couch in defeat. “I’ll drive you home.”

 

Raven holds her hand up before this can continue. She was not falling into this trap again. “I have someone picking me up actually. Thanks though.” She lies. It doesn’t bother her.

 

Abby shoots her a questioning look but neither of the Griffin women interrogates for further answers. “I’ll see you around.” Raven walks herself to the door and slips outside before either of them can react further, insisting she stay inside until her ride shows up. She pulls her coat tighter and makes her way down Clarke’s driveway.

 

“Hello there,” someone says as he gets out of his car in front of the house. “Are you a friend of Clarke’s?”

 

It might be silly, feeling defensive, but she’d been around enough shitty men to justify the tensing in her shoulders. “Yeah,” she answers vaguely and keeps walking.

 

“I’m Jake.” He offers his hand before she gets by him. “I’m Clarke’s dad.”

 

Though it should make her relax, it doesn’t. Swiftly she grabs his hand and shakes it. “Raven,” and then she sidesteps around him to the sidewalk. “Nice meeting you!” she adds after she’s a few steps away. Semi-polite but also avoiding finding herself captured in a conversation she didn’t have the time for.

 

A part of her almost expects to hear someone running after her. As if Clarke’s dad is going to rat her out and someone will come insist on walking her home. But no one shows up.

 

The walk home is dark, cold, and, most importantly, solitary.

 

\--------------------------

 

When she gets into work that same Tuesday night her body is already exhausted, her mind even more so. For a day off, Raven had sure worn herself out.  The familiar stuffy air of the hospital is welcoming. If nothing else, it’s a relief to be away from the terrible wind that had followed her the whole way here. “Hey Jasper,” she says in greeting. He partially moves his head in acknowledgement. His focus was firmly on the handheld device he was playing.

 

“There better not be any work waiting for me when I get back or I’ll kill you!” Raven calls over her shoulder as she moves to go clock in.

 

She greets the nurses behind the desk and enters the passcode for the employee’s break room. Maybe it’s a dumb realisation to have, but as she slides her badge through the automated clock she remembers that she failed to eat anything since Clarke had made her a grilled cheese earlier that day. With a sigh Raven realises how long of a night she was about to have. There would be no magically knowing Bellamy to show up with Mu Shu Pork this time.

 

Back out in the front she finds Jasper furiously typing. “I just need to send this email to verification and I’m done,” he promises.

 

She laughs at him. “I won’t actually hurt you, you know.”

 

“Yeah well,” he says. His fingers never miss a beat on the keyboard. “You’re still a little scary.” Good, she thinks. A little scary was good. “So what’s the deal with you and Kyle?” he asks as he hits the enter key and moves to log off of the computer.

 

“Who the hell is Kyle?” Raven asks shooing him out of her desk chair and taking her place. Tonight might be another night when her brace comes off at three in the morning. After sleeping in it last week she’d been trying to be more careful. The idea of her leg getting cut off wasn’t exactly appealing.

 

“Kyle Wick? In engineering.”

 

Huh, she thinks, trying not to consider it for too long. Kyle was a stupid name anyway. “What about Kyle Wick in engineering?”

 

Jasper shrugs, packing all of his stuff in his bag. “He came out with a group of us a couple of nights ago. He was pretty curious about you.”

 

The statement was innocent enough but it grabs her attention. “Curious how?” she demands, feigning disinterest. Her eyes stayed focused on the computer screen in front of her but her mind had already gone in eight different directions. “Was he asking questions?”

 

“Uh,” he says, looking around the room as if there might be someone there to save him.

 

His lack of answer is more than she needs to know. “Answer the question, Jasper,” she sighs. It was hard not to turn and stare him down, her anxieties were getting the best of her at the thought of just what sort of information Wick was fishing for.

 

He scratches at the back of his neck. “Bellamy mentioned your name. Wick was just sort of wondering how we all knew you.”

 

Her stomach drops. There was only one way she knew anyone. Even Octavia who had been her friend since middle school had become her friend because Finn sat next to the girl in social studies. “And what did you tell him?”

 

“I didn’t tell him anything,” Jasper defends immediately. “I was texting Maya the whole time. Honest.”

 

Raven rolls her eyes and leans back into her seat. “I don’t care who said what, Jasper. I just care what was said.”

 

“The truth,” he admits. “Nothing gory though, just the basics.”

 

She quirks an eyebrow at the ‘nothing gory’ part. “Did you talk about how the person I know you all through is dead now?”

 

“Someone might have…mentioned that briefly.”

 

“And how he cheated on me beforehand?”

 

“Once again,” Jasper answers, taking a step back towards the door. “Just a throwaway comment.”

 

Whatever, Raven thinks as she places her attention on the computer screens in front of her once more. There were people to be admitted, rooms to be changed, surgeries to be put on the schedule. This drama wasn’t worth her attention. “Go home, Jasper. And tell everyone to stay the hell out of my business.”

 

He mutters something that sounds like, “yes ma’am,” as he darts out the door but Raven doesn’t have enough energy in her to find it funny.

 

The night carries on at the same pace, regardless of the rage that rolls through her in waves or the way that her stomach drops out as she thinks of all the variations in which Wick _knows_ her. He has knowledge that he was never supposed to possess. She’d never consented for him to know about her losses, both those that are gone already and the ones who fade farther away every day. Who was he to go asking questions about her? Who did he think he was to pick her up and drop her off and…

 

She never gave him permission to care about her.

 

She never gave herself permission to care about whether or not he did.

 

Around eleven she makes a new day resolution and tells herself that after midnight, she wasn’t allowed to give Kyle fucking Wick one more thought. He wasn’t worth it. She had better things to think about. Like bills and cirrhosis and a schedule that overwhelmed her every time she thought about it for too long.

 

There’s still twenty minutes left to the day and she’s pulled up a game of solitaire on the computer to kill the time already. It did little to stifle her anger.

 

She hears the doors open and looks up, praying there wasn’t a direct admit that she hadn’t heard about.

 

Of course it’s not. And who else would walk through the doors at 11:46 at night aside from Kyle fucking Wick? That was his full name now, she decided. “I suggest you just turn around and leave.” she growls her irritation at an all-time high after how shit-tastic this whole damn day has been. Finding out he’s been snooping in her personal life was just the cherry on top.

 

At one point today she’d felt guilty taking off today without another word. Now she felt nothing but wrath towards him. She hated him and his nosy, smart mouthed self.

 

“Calm down there, Reyes.” He doesn’t grasp the depth of her anger yet. To Wick it is just another night. Grumpy little Raven sitting behind her computer with a bad attitude and a sour face to match.

 

Before things had been so easy. It was a straight line between what she could accept versus the things she couldn’t. Now he’d come in and messed everything up. It frustrated her as she duelled with her own emotions as to what she wanted. The conflict left her tired. She was tired enough as it was. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

 

“Hey,” his voice is soft, the unspoken ‘what’s wrong’ hovering in the air between them. “I thought we had kind of worked past this, angry distanced thing.”

 

She fixes a hard glare on him. _They_ hadn’t worked past anything. _They_ were nothing. She had never approved any sort of progression or development of a relationship. At no point had she consented to him and her becoming any form of ‘we’ in anything they did. Or, in this case, didn’t do. She worries her lip between her teeth, trying to find a response. “And here I thought that you knew when to lay off.”

 

“Please,” he says as he walks around and sits in one of the chairs across from her desk. “You know better than that.” He smiles his usual cheeky smile. Raven wants no part of it tonight.

 

“I also thought you knew better than to go around asking my friends about my personal business,” she adds, her anger mounting once again. Maybe it was the way he was sitting so casually across from her, smiling as if nothing even mattered. And maybe it was that she hadn’t slept well in weeks or the pain in her leg or her mother and her stupid house guests. It might just be a combination of everything all together. But she was sick of this guy and his smug face and his stupid comments and the way he looked at her like she was something to be cared for. “I don’t know where the hell you get off-“

 

“Whoa, Raven, hey I’m sorry,” he cuts her off which only pisses her off more. “I hadn’t been trying to snoop, but your friends kind of just jumped into the story and I-“

 

“Didn’t stop them,” she says, cutting him off this time. “Maybe you didn’t ask for that specific information but you also sure as hell didn’t stop them when they started giving it to you.” She was just making a fool of herself, she knew that. If she wanted this whole thing to be forgotten then it would be far easier to not even mention it. By bringing it up and accusing him for snooping in her business, he knows that she’s bothered. He knows these are part of her dirty little secrets and that her insides twist knowing what he’s discovered and that she’s frustrated that Finn has somehow managed to taint something else.

 

Wick wouldn’t look at her the same now. No one ever did.

 

He nods, the smile completely gone from his face. “You’re right, okay?” Him agreeing hadn’t exactly been what Raven had expected. She was ready to fight, scream at the top of her lungs and send him away for good. That’s what was easiest; it seemed like the only way to recover at this point. “When they were talking I knew you wouldn’t want me to hear what they had to say.” He nods, as if agreeing with himself. He has the decency not to look at her as he admits the truth. She opens her mouth to respond but he fixes his eyes on her and blows out a harsh breath. “I knew that what they were telling me should be something you tell me yourself. When you wanted me to know. You have every right to be pissed at me.”

 

Something about this day has left Raven feeling hollowed out. As if there was nothing left of her and she was working off of survival instincts only. Wick’s admission, however guilty it may portray him, causes all those feelings she’d squandered down for so long come rising back up. They came rushing at her with a vengeance, glad that someone had validated that she didn’t feel right about something and maybe it wasn’t her fault. “I’m still mad at you,” she whispers, afraid speaking any louder will cause her voice to crack.

 

He nods, as if giving her permission. “I kind of figured.” But he doesn’t add anything else. He was letting her be mad and that just made the anger dissipate further.

 

“You crossed a line,” she adds because her heart is stuttering in her chest again but it’s that righteous anger that reminds her of who she is. It’s the flaming temper that makes her think she can give him up for good. He wasn’t meant to know these parts of her life and she shouldn’t just let him back in. She needed to remain strong, not this weak fragment of desperation that she transformed into whenever this obnoxious boy somehow said the right thing.

 

“I know did, Raven. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.” Those damn words make her eyes prick with tears because she didn’t remember the last time someone made anything up to her. She always felt like she owed Finn so much that she could never stay angry at him. Even when he screwed up there was no asking him to make it up to her. He had already been making it up to her every single day as he kept her fed and warm and safe.

 

 “But here,” Wick says to interrupt her thoughts. “I came to give this to you anyway.” Wick offers her an envelope and she eyes it for a minute before taking it from him. “You took off before I could give you this.”

 

When she opens it up she finds a small pile of cash in there. Probably at least enough for groceries for the next few weeks, or maybe even a chunk of the rent. It was extra money, the kind her mother would never have to know of or have any control regarding. Realistically, Raven knows she should stash it away for one of those months when there’s nothing left to pay the water bill or a day when her stomach feels so empty she swears it’s eating itself. “I can’t take this,” she says instead.

 

“I hardly expected you to fix my truck for free.” Which is news to Raven because she had thought that was exactly what he wanted.

 

Again she opens the envelope and uses some rough math to estimate how much is there. “Okay fine, but you’re paying me over two hundred dollars for three hours of labour.” Of all people, she can recognise charity when she sees it. Wick takes a breath, as if getting ready to enter some long rant about just _why_ she should take the money. If she had to bet on it, she would say he had rehearsed something at home before coming. “I have something else in mind.”

 

He watches the envelope as she reaches across the desk and puts it in front of him. “I don’t offer my gorgeous body as means of payment,” he says with apologetic eyes.

 

Raven rolls her eyes, decidedly ignoring him. “Teach me to drive.”

 

“Teach…what?” He leans forward, eyebrows scrunching. “Are you telling me that you’re a mechanic that doesn’t drive?”

 

His teasing is light but she’s already rubbed raw from everything else tonight. “It’s kind of hard to learn how to drive when you don’t have a car.”

 

“Good point,” he ascents, taking the envelope off of the desk and shoving it back in his pocket. “You have yourself a deal then, Reyes.”

 

She wonders how much he’ll regret this. Hell, she wonders how much _she’ll_ regret this. But then she holds out her hand to shake, much like when they’d made the deal with the rocket so many weeks ago. “No backing out now.”

 

There’s a high expectation for him to make some sort of joke about how he was regretting it already or how he might once she lands him in a hospital. But he must be trying to make everything up to her still because he just holds her stare as he says, “Wouldn’t want to anyway.”

 

Raven thinks he might be referencing more than just their most recent deal. She smiles, a rush of happiness overpowering everything else for just a minute.

 

For the first time in so long she acknowledges the feeling. Then she tries to hold on to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, that was a bit on the long winded side. Hope none of you minded the length. I really enjoyed writing about Raven and Clarke's relationship a little. Let me know what you thought, especially how things panned out between Raven and Wick. The end was originally going in a very different direction. I ended up rewriting this a couple of weeks ago and far prefer how it turned out. Let me know if you think she let him off the hook too easy. 
> 
> Also, just wanted to let you all know that I leave for vacation on the 13th and won't be back until the 21st. I can guarantee this story will not be completed before the third season starts as I just finished writing the 26th chapter today. I'll probably mostly stick with daily updates but there might be a few days I miss since I have some busy days planned. Anyway, thanks again for reading!


	16. Any Other Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick feels guilty at first and then offers something without thinking it through

**Wick's POV**

 

Perhaps it would be easier to just forget about their little argument. Wick would love if he never had to think about what had happened between them again. And it wasn’t because Raven said mean things and it had nothing to do with how his feelings were hurt. It was entirely related to the fact that he felt nothing but guilt every time he thought about the look of betrayal in her eyes as she confronted him. She may not trust him, she didn’t seem to trust anyone and he hardly blamed her, but that didn’t prevent her from getting stabbed in the back by him anyway.

 

He had known it was wrong every step of the way. He knew it was something she would hate as they all sat around the table talking that night. It ate away at him when he went home that night and the feelings didn’t alleviate each time he thought about it from there on out. Raven was a private person and he had exploited his means of getting information about her. These were stories that were hers to share, no one else’s. Maybe in different circumstances, if she wasn’t Raven and he wasn’t Wick, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. But he knows that what he learned that night was a story she should have had the right to share, or not, with him.

 

When she confronted him it was a knee jerk reaction to be defensive. That was just how he handled most confrontations. It didn’t matter if it was at work or with family or his friends, he always had some excuse, some reason, and almost definitely a counter-argument. But with Raven he knew exactly what she needed to hear. Probably, he thinks, because it was exactly what he needed to say.

 

The first thing he had expected was a flushed, angry face and more venom filled with words. The last thing he’d expected was for her to ask him to teach her how to drive. He’d just kind of assumed that someone like her, who stood in the freezing cold and tinkered with his truck to the point that it ran smoother than it had in years, would know how to drive. It made sense; she was quite a bit younger than him after all. Not to mention, as she’d bitterly pointed out, it wasn’t as though she had a car to learn with.

 

Wick didn’t want to admit to anyone, himself included, that he was more than happy to agree to her request. Everyone should be able to learn how to drive, he tells himself as reasoning. (It’s one more reason to see her) he thought immediately when she’d mentioned it instead.

 

Despite the drama, life carries on much the same after that night. He finishes out his last two weeks over at the other hospital and is beyond pleased at the opportunity to go back where he belonged.

 

The night shift welcomes him warmly. Harper pats him on the back as he walks in, cart in hand as she makes her way down the hall. “Good to have you back,” she says as she walks past him. “I’ll save a bed or two for you to change tonight.”

 

“Can’t wait!” he calls back, happy to be socialising with his usual night crew once again.

 

Monty is all smiles when Wick walks in to the lab a few minutes after seven. “I know that look on your face isn’t because you’re that excited to see me,” he says as he moves to boot up his computer.

 

“Sure I am!” Monty answers, grin only growing wider. “You’re my only friend on overnight, the better half of a dynamic duo, if you will.”

 

“I won’t,” Wick mumbles, raising an eyebrow at Monty. “Let me guess, Miller finally kissed you."

 

The rate at which Monty changes colour is comical. “Maybe,” he smiles unabashedly. Wick could tease him for weeks on this one moment alone. “How about you? Raven plant one on you yet?”

 

Wick scoffs. It was the easiest way to pretend that he hadn’t thought of such a thing before. “Don’t really know what you’re smoking, but that isn’t ever going to happen.” Raven didn’t need a boyfriend, he reminds himself yet again.

 

“What, don’t you find her cute or whatever?” Monty pretends to be busying himself with work but Wick knows an interrogation when it’s happening. This group of friends gossiped like a bunch of middle school girls. The heavy stuff tended to stay buried, hidden away from outsiders and rarely discussed within the group. But when it came to the petty, little stuff…that was trotted out daily and examined for any signs of promise. Monty and Miller would satisfy the wolves for all of a day or two before they would be back to making silent bets on Clarke and Bellamy.

 

The suggestion is ludicrous, but stating so would hardly prove Kyle’s point. “Raven is…” he pauses in an attempt to find a neutral word. “She’s plenty pretty.”

 

“Pretty?” Monty questions with a tone of shock. “Dude, I’m gay and even I would feel honoured to be hit on by her. She’s hot.”

 

As if she would hit on anyone. “I’m Raven’s friend. That’s all.”

 

“As if you don’t want more.” Monty doesn’t even pretend to be focused on his work anymore, crossing his arms and fixing Wick with a hard look. “You’re totally smitten for her.”

 

“Who says smitten?” he asks. The idea of being _more_ to Raven was not one he was opposed to. But he knew what happened when people were more to each other. There was no going back to less. If he let anything happen between them, it could mean the difference between having her in his life as a friend and no longer knowing her at all. He wasn’t interested in losing what they’d built so far. “Besides, I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

 

At no point did Wick think that Monty would just leave it at that. But surprisingly he just mumbles a, “sure thing” and leaves the issue alone.

 

Of course, now that he’s brought the idea up at all, Kyle had a hard time forgetting it. It had been a lonely few years. The fact of the matter was that he missed having people in his life. Someone to care when he was coming home, someone asking him what he wanted to do for dinner, someone to say goodnight and good morning to.

 

He wasn’t avoiding finding a person to fulfil those things. It was more like he didn’t know where to start. Besides, he was busy enough as it was.

 

The one thing he did know was that Raven Reyes was not meant to be that person. She was a someone of course, but of a completely different capacity.

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

“Yes, Aunt Mary Ann, work is going great.”

 

It didn’t matter that he was a grown man, on his own for years now and doing just fine. His aunt still insisted on checking in. She’d been his mom’s older sister.  Something which his mom always said made her impossibly controlling. Wick got the smallest piece of that controlling every week or so. He didn’t necessarily mind. It was nice having someone check in on him, even if she did treat him like a child.

 

“Good,” she says from the other end. She sounded distant, worried even. “And you’ll be over on Christmas Eve, won’t you?”

 

Work would have been the perfect excuse, and he almost uses it, but then he thinks about Christmas with no one, not even his aunt or his cousins or his mildly weird uncle. The idea is not one he likes. “Aren’t I always?”

 

“I know, I know. Just don’t forget-“

 

“To check my oil before I make the trip.” He cuts her off. This was a regular conversation. Anytime he even so much as thought about visiting her she was insistent he check his oil. Of course there were many components of a car that should be checked before travelling seven hours north, but Aunt Mary Ann had only experienced an issue with her oil, so that was all she worried about.

 

She huffs on the other end. She didn’t like being interrupted. “Do you have anyone to bring with you this year, Kyle?” she asks, her voice hopeful.

 

With no one left around in their family besides her family and him, he wasn’t surprised she wanted him to find someone. She probably worried he would go under financially and she’d be forced to take him in. Or maybe she was just concerned for his overall well-being. The last few years had allotted for a lot of concern from all sorts of places. “Not this year,” he answers truthfully.

 

She answers with a sigh so pitiful he almost hangs up the phone. “Well alright, maybe next year.”

 

Way to make him feel welcome. He hangs up a moment later, thinking about how he should have just said he had to work.

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

“You can’t tell me this doesn’t at least have potential!” Kyle shouts, hands moving wildly throughout the air in frustration. It’s a few days after he’s first come back and he’s across from Raven at her desk once more. She didn’t miss a beat of destroying his plans and hard work, essentially telling him he was useless for the hundredth time.

 

With a shake of her head she just pushes the sketch back across the desk. “It’s shoddy work, Wick. Why would I even bother making all these adjustments just to ruin the work I’ve already done?”

 

There might be a point there, Wick thinks, but then decides there’s not. He would really like to be right just once. “Because undoing the work you’ve done is the only way we’re going to get this thing even close to working.”

 

“Are you saying I did it wrong?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest and challenging him as she sits up a little taller. “Or just that you can’t work with others?”

 

He groans, hands running through his hair in frustration. “What I’m _saying_ is that you can’t get it to work, and I’m proposing that this might be the answer to all three of the problems you’re having.”

 

Though she tries to hide it, he doesn’t miss the way she glances back down at the paper. “I think you’re wrong.”

 

It would be so very easy to lose his cool right now. Somehow, Wick manages to keep his composure. “I’m going to be on my deathbed and still making these damn sketches for you.”

 

Raven shrugs, “Hardly my fault that all your plans suck.” If it weren’t for the ghost of a smile playing on her lips he might actually bother to be offended.

 

Ever since the confrontation a couple of weeks ago Wick had worried that Raven would start closing him off. For a while he didn’t see her at all. He was still at the other hospital and making special visits suddenly felt weird to him. But once he came back it almost felt like it’d been too long, and now there was something sitting between them. Every time he got her to smile felt like a promise that things were still okay, even if the smile is generally in his expense. “Well it is your fault for being insufferably stubborn.”

 

“Only because I’m right.” Every conversation with her felt like a challenge. No matter what they started out discussing, it somehow ended in debate. She didn’t let him off easy on anything.

 

“Well then I guess you’re stuck with me for a while,” he jokes and winks in her direction which earns him an eye roll. A very small piece of him considers that maybe that was the idea. This rocket project of hers kept them together in one way or another. It was an excuse to talk to each other. When there was no other reason, they had this.

 

“We all have to bear our own burdens,” she replies solemnly.

 

This, Wick thinks, is the sort of burden he’d happily carry every day. “Whatever, Reyes,” he grumbles as he snatches the plans back. “Don’t expect me to come back after Christmas with a whole new set of plans worked out.”

 

“Please,” she says with a wave of her hand. “I’ll probably have the damn thing finished by the time you come back.”

 

“Only because you’re secretly using my brilliant ideas and then taking all of the credit.” Something about this was always so easy. He missed having anything be easy like this. “Won’t you be busy though?”

 

Raven furrows her brows and turns her head slightly in question. “Busy with…”

 

“Christmas?” he finishes. “Don’t tell me you don’t celebrate Christmas.”

 

She bites her lip and shrugs. “Not really now that I’m older.” He watches as she messes with loading paper into the printer and digging out some extra staples, busy work. “Octavia usually gets me something, but I don’t really do the whole gift thing.”

 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, he knows that. She was working her ass off day in and day out just trying to stay afloat it seems. Why would she bother with something as silly and meaningless as Christmas? Realistically he knew there was no room for a tree in her trailer or time for traditions in her life. Regardless of how logical it all might be though, the idea still makes him sad. “So are you just working?”

 

What really catches him by surprise is when she shakes her head no. “The grocery store is closed and someone else was assigned the Christmas holiday. We’re not allowed to switch.”

 

“So you’re just going to spend Christmas…”

 

“Like I would spend any other day,” she answers easily. “That and fixing this damn rocket if for no other reason than to rub it in your face next time I see you.”

 

“Ah, the true holiday spirit,” he jokes. And next thing Wick knows the words, “I’m going to my aunt’s for the holidays and it’s kind of crazy and they’re a little weird but you’re totally welcome to come if you want. She always wants me to bring someone along anyway,” are spilling out of his mouth without any permission. There’s no way to stuff them back in so he’s just left sitting there, watching her half confused/half shocked expression.

 

The words rushed out of him faster than he could keep track of. For all he knew he could have just asked her to travel to Africa with him. Barring from the face she had fixed, it wouldn’t surprise him. “You want me to…go with you?”

 

Wick shrugs. “My holidays have been pretty different in recent years and even though I’m not _alone_ I still kind of am, you know?” She doesn’t respond with more than a half nod. “And I would hate the idea for you to be alone. Plus, it’d be great to get my aunt off my back. And…we could get some work done too.” He tacks on the last bit in what might just be the lamest attempt of convincing her. He’s pretty sure she can see right through him but he’s suddenly so wrapped up in this idea that he doesn’t even care.

 

There’s several seconds of dumbfounded silence before Raven eventually nods her head. She shakes it a few too many times before stopping and blinking in an attempt to reorient herself. “I guess sure, why not?”

 

Wick smiles. “Let’s just hope you don’t regret asking that question.”

 

Raven laughs in response. Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be quite so lonely after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all prepared for the next few chapters to come. They are a great time and I regret nothing. 
> 
> Anyway, this one might seem a little weak in the plot department but I thought it was good to air out some of Wick's thoughts. It seems he's pretty aware of his feelings but also very determined in his intentions. Tomorrow morning I get on a plane and fly to a blissfully warm state where I will lay in a heated pool and try not to think too hard. As a result that may mean no chapter tomorrow. If I find the time to edit though I'll try and make a point to post. 
> 
> Aside from that I just really want to say a big thank you to everyone who has been reviewing! It is so great to read your guys' thoughts on each chapter and know how you feel about the characters and the development and everything. It really helps me reflect on what I've done so far and where I've lined this story up to go from here!


	17. Admitting the Truth to Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven says yes and can't force herself to take it back.

**Raven’s POV**

 

It’s only two minutes after Wick has left that Raven regrets saying yes. It wasn’t like she enjoyed family holiday parties to begin with. The fact that these people, this group of strangers, weren’t even her family certainly did not help matters.

 

But she had been so caught up in Wick’s hopeful eyes and slightly sad words and the earnest smile he offered, she couldn’t help but say yes. There was something that hit her in ways she didn’t expect when he said that his holidays weren’t like they used to be. Alone but not alone was something she could sympathise with. Perhaps a bit more than she would like.

 

Sure, she could make up something now and say that her mom was upset with the idea of her leaving or the hospital was insisting she work. It seemed though, that despite how strong her regret may be, it wasn’t powerful enough to call his extension over in the lab and take back her acceptance. It wasn’t enough to replace the unspoken portion of her that actually wanted this.

 

For as long as Raven could remember holidays weren’t really a thing. Sure, her mother had made some form of an effort when she’d been very small. Raven had memories of unwrapping newspaper from a box of tissues or new underwear. In her childlike mind it had been more than enough. Once she’d started school though, she resented not only her mother and the other children, but also herself. She hated that she lost the ability to be grateful when she saw the other kids with their Gameboys and new clothes.

 

Once she was a bit older Finn did what he could to compensate. His family wasn’t much better off than hers but he would make her things, trinkets of all sorts. He would present her with homemade jewlery and even tried to make her a scarf one year. There was once a time when he was endlessly dedicated to her, sometimes Raven had as hard of a time remembering that as she does forgetting.

 

Of course the gifts weren’t even what mattered. She cried to Finn about not having a tree when she was twelve and feeling particularly sorry for herself. To this day she still blamed puberty for that instance. Together the two of them hand crafted some ornaments and decorated the already bare deciduous tree outside of her trailer. The paper and yarn hung from the empty branches, looking sadder than if nothing had been there at all. By Christmas morning only three remained. She still insisted on opening her gift from Finn beneath the tree.

 

Now that she was older Raven didn’t really care about Christmas in the slightest. It wasn’t like she was religious and the desire for gifts had only lessened as she got older. Things like trees in homes and chocolate powder in a cup lost their appeal when she was busy with two different jobs and a less than functioning mother.

 

But some part of her, some dormant hope that had been buried with her youth, latched onto the idea of Christmas and was saying yes before she could dare push it back down. It wasn’t that she was enchanted with the idea. She hardly expected it to be anything more than awkward conversation and an overall regretful experience.

 

With Christmas only three days away Raven knew she needed to figure out exactly what was expected of her before things moved any further.

 

So the morning after agreeing she doesn’t even have it in her to make fun of Wick as he comes through the double doors, ready to take her home. She says good bye to the woman who had relieved her this morning and follows Wick outside, no questions asked.

 

“So,” he opens with once they’re both settled in the cabin of his truck. “I kind of forgot to mention something last night.”

 

“Oh?” she asks, slightly hoping that maybe he would just uninvite her and save the effort of all the concerns and inner debates.

 

Wick waits until he’s backed out of his spot and is free of the parking garage before speaking again. “See, my aunt doesn’t actually live around here.”

 

Raven quirks an eyebrow. “Where exactly does she live then?” The fact that this whole thing now included a potential road trip didn’t enthral her to say the least.

 

“Uh, New Hampshire?” he says like a question, taking his eyes off of the road to look over at her.

 

She scoffs in response, leaning forward to direct the slightly warm air onto her body. “That’s like a nine hour drive!”

 

“Only seven and a half actually,” he corrects, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “But I should have mentioned that before I guess. I can’t blame you for not wanting to come.”

 

It’s with a sigh of resignation and the acknowledgement that she _wanted_ to go that Raven says, “I would still like to come,” in a small voice. Admitting the things she wanted was hardest, even to herself. It was being aware that there were things she hoped for and then knowing she might never get them. It was acknowledging that she wanted more than what she was able to provide on her own. “But, Wick…” she fades out, the words too shameful for her to admit without at least a moment’s hesitation. To give him credit, she doesn’t get interrupted as she summons the courage. “I don’t-I can’t buy anyone gifts or anything. I don’t want it to seem like I’m not-“

 

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” he cuts her off before she can go on any further. “No one is expecting you to buy gifts. You don’t even know these people.”

 

Raven nods, grateful she said something and to have the worry resolved. “Well alright then, what’s the plan?”

 

\---------------------------------

 

Christmas Eve rolls around exceptionally slow this year. Most of the time she didn’t have any stored up anticipation or excitement for the day. Therefore the days passed just like in any other week or month. But now she waits with eager anticipation at the coming events. She gets off the morning of the day and walks home, showering and adding things like her toothbrush to her bag.

 

Wick had explained to her that this was an overnight event. They would arrive around seven that night for Christmas Eve dinner and a few other traditions that were mostly run by his nieces and nephews and then Christmas Day would be spent there as well, a second meal being prepared in the afternoon and a lot of time spent in pyjamas throughout the whole day.

 

Originally she’d been more than fine with this whole plan, but the more she considered his family the more she worried. She didn’t do people’s families. Maybe that was related to never having to do this with her own family. Maybe it was just a personal dislike for uncomfortable situations. Either way…

 

Before leaving, Raven leaves her most recent check from the hospital on the table, putting a bow on top and calling it her mother’s Christmas gift. She also has the decency to leave a note and a promise that she’d return soon. It might be different if her mother cared, might hinder her from going at all even, but Raven knew it would be a miracle if the woman was out of bed for anything more than a drink over the next couple of days. She might use the holiday as an excuse to have people over if she remembered. That was just all the more reason to leave.

 

This time when she watches out the window for Wick, he’s there ten minutes early. She grabs her stuff and makes her way to where he waits in his truck. He gets out, she assumes to help with her bags. All she has is an old shopping bag, everything she needed fit easily. Though she should know better than to be surprised by his lack of judgement, she’s still caught off guard when he just smiles and takes the bag from her, as if it were an actual suitcase. “Have everything you need?” he asks as he puts her stuff on the backseat.

 

“I think so,” she answers, settling into the truck. “Are you sure your aunt won’t care?” It’s not the first time she’s asked but the worry had yet to dissipate so she wasn’t about to stop asking.

 

“Are you kidding?” Wick asks. “She nearly started sobbing with joy the moment I told her I was bringing a friend.” Raven does not miss the use of the word friend. She wonders if perhaps his aunt managed to. “Sorry, by the way,” he adds after another minute. The whole thing was a bit surreal and Raven was zoned out thinking about it all. She was just vanishing for two days, with some man who she only slightly knew, to a holiday event. She hadn’t so much as been out of the state since she’d gone to Ocean City with Finn and his parents when she was thirteen.

 

Wick’s words are what remind Raven they had been talking. “Sorry? About what?”

 

“Just apologising in preparation,” he answers which hardly makes her feel any better. “My aunt has the best of intentions but…she can come across as a little much at times.” He winces as if in memory of a specific event but then he looks over at her and offers a somewhat apologetic smile. “I swear she should have been born in the south.”

 

Raven chuckles, the conversation was the only thing keeping her awake after the overnight shift she’d worked. The good news about a seven and a half hour car ride was that it would allow her plenty of time to sleep before they arrived. “How many people are there going to be at this thing?”

 

There’s a minute of silence and Raven looks over to him silently counting. “My aunt and uncle,” he says, holding up two fingers. “And then my aunt has three daughters and one son, all of which will be bringing their husbands, so there’s another eight.” Well, that escalated quickly, Raven thinks. “And then uh, Anya has three kids, Echo has one, Indra is bringing her dog, and I think John and his husband have two…three foster kids now.”

 

A grand total of seventeen. Seventeen completely new people all gathering together as a family to enjoy the holiday. And then there was her. Her stomach dropped at the thought and she was ready to jump out of the car while it was still in motion just to get out of this stupid arrangement she had somehow agreed to. What the actual fuck had she been thinking? “I’m not sure if I should comment on how poorly you warned me or just question some names.”

 

Wick laughs, it settles her back into her seat, some tension easing out of her muscles. “Echo is her nickname, Ekatrina is her full name.”

 

“I think that’s even worse,” Raven says with a shake of her head. “And then you have John, the most boring of boring names.”

 

“My aunt got to name the girls, my poor uncle only got a say in John.”

 

“Well it’s no wonder then,” she laughs as she leans forward to start messing with his radio. “With all the crazy names he was probably desperate for something normal.” He nods, allowing her to take control of the music as he turned onto the freeway. She immediately switches off of anything country but decides against torturing him with anymore rap. The top 40 station is good enough, Raven decides, turning it down low so they wouldn’t have to scream over it. “So…” she starts after a few minutes of just music breaking up the silence. “No parents?” It isn’t right for her to pry, but he knows things about her that weren’t ever his to know, so it was her turn for once.

 

Wick clears his throat and cleans off the windshield. “No,” he answers tersely. Raven doesn’t miss the way his hands tighten on the steering wheel. “No parents.” She wants to ask more but at the same time she feels like she already knows, just based off of his reaction. It reminded her of when people would ask her if she had a boyfriend after Finn had died. She would freeze, bracing against the emotions that always came too hard and too fast. “You can get some sleep, if you want,” Wick says, interrupting her thoughts. She wouldn’t be surprised if he knew where her mind had been going. She was grateful that he made it stop.

 

The truck is warm and the motion soothing, Raven is more than a little inclined to pass out for a few solid hours. “That’s not a bad idea,” she consents, slumping down and putting her good leg up on the dashboard. It’d been a while since she’d taken her brace off. Wasn’t it always, she thinks bitterly. She shoots Wick a nervous glance before making her decision. He’d seen her far more vulnerable than this, tears leaking out of her eyes and a complete and utter refusal of her leg muscles to cooperate.

 

She bends forward and starts prying off each strap and holster, releasing the brace’s death grip around her leg. She can’t help the sigh of relief that passes her lips once she’s pulled it free. Her leg holds tightly to its original position but she coaxes it slowly into relaxing.

 

If it weren’t for driving, Raven knows Wick’s eyes would be on her. As is, she looks up to find him glancing at her. She tries not to be embarrassed. “Why do you wear it?” he asks after another minute of no sound aside from Bruno Mars’ crooning.

 

“So I can fucking walk,” Raven snaps. It was one thing for someone to acknowledge it in the first place. It was another entirely to be stupid about it.

 

He chuckles, not put off by her harsh words. “I know that, but why not use your crutches more?” His eyes flit down to her leg for a beat of a second before focusing back on the road in front of him. “It seems like that thing hurts you a lot.”

 

It would be easy to ignore him, turn her body to face the door and fall asleep against it or to tell him to shut up and get out of her business. But instead she shrugs, staring down at her now bent limb. The shooting pains made their way through her leg all the way up to her thigh. It wasn’t the debilitating kind, just the ones that reminded her she still had some feeling. “I don’t…” she pauses, clears her throat and tries again. “I don’t like how it feels.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying! It looks like some sort of medieval death trap. There’s no way that’s-“

 

“No, Wick,” she cuts him off. He shuts up at the use of his name and turns to meet her eyes. She looks away first, which is for the best since he’s supposed to be driving. “I mean when I use my crutches. I don’t like how it feels, having this…empty weight dragging behind me with every step.” When everything had first happened Abby had insisted she keep weight off of her leg for at least six weeks, leaving her with no choice other than crutches. When she’d gone to her follow up appointment and the brace had been suggested, she jumped at the idea without a second thought. Even now she hated when she had to use her hands to position her leg just so or get it to move out of the way when she was lying in bed at night. It felt unnatural. “It’s like,” she stops, deciding against the metaphor.

 

“Like what?” he prompts in a quiet voice, turning the radio down a few more dials and turning his windshield wipers on as a mix of snow and rain began to fall.

 

Raven sighs and stares down at her hands. Then it’s just her leg in her vision though, so she looks back up and watches the road with Wick. “It’s like I’m dragging around everything that happened. It’s this…baggage that won’t ever leave me.” A physical representation for all the metaphorical shit she’d had to live through. What a fucking joke. “Plus it looks stupid.”

 

“I don’t think it looks stupid,” he tells her, not commenting on any of her philosophical ramblings. “I think it just looks like the truth.”

 

“Which is?” she asks because even though it’s an equal parts dumb and cheesy statement, it still piques her curiosity.

 

“That sometimes life is a bitch,” he says with a shrug. “And you kept going on anyway.”

 

They aren’t the most poetic words but Raven smiles for what they are. It’d been a while since she’d heard the truth anyway.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

When she wakes up it’s near dark outside and the snow is coming down heavier than before. The highway still remained clear but she wouldn’t be surprised if side streets were covered at this point.

 

“Morning,” Wick says when he notices her movement. His eyes don’t leave the road for more than a second. Surely the road is getting slicker the more the snow falls.

 

“How long was I asleep for?” she asks. The road had transformed to a two lane highway with trees towering over them and next to no traffic. They must have entered no man’s land by now.

 

He glances to the clock before fixing his eyes back on the road. “About 600 miles, two gas stops, and a traffic jam ago.”

 

“Oh,” she says, surprised. At no point did she think that she would sleep as long as she had. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pass out on you.”

 

Wick waves her off. “Well you woke up just in time. We’re about there.” The statement should probably offer her some sense of excitement or relief, no one really enjoyed long car rides, but instead it just ignites her nerves all over again.

 

To distract herself Raven begins buckling her brace back into place, paying closer attention to placement than she has in months now. “I didn’t bring anything nice to wear,” she says in a rush. The realisation that she was going to a holiday meal hits her and she’s ashamed of the fact that she hadn’t thought to bring something a little nicer than her usual ratty skinny jeans and Henley. Not that she owned anything much nicer but still.

 

“Trust me, don’t worry about it.” But she does anyway, the twisting in her stomach was hard to ignore. Wick pulls off onto a side street and Raven is astounded at the lack of streetlights and residences they pass by. In Newark everyone pretty much lived on top of each other, everyone with their own pre-determined- just enough- slice of land. Here everyone was spread out though, long stretches of grass between them. It was land that served no other purpose than to simply be there. A foreign concept in most places.

 

“This is a bit different,” she muses aloud.

 

Wick scoffs. “Yeah, I don’t think I could stand it. The closest Walmart is an hour drive away.”

 

“Sounds awful,” she says out of instinct. “Although, it might be nice not have people on top of you in every which direction,” she adds after a bit of contemplation. She was exhausted by the people sometimes. Everywhere you moved in Newark there were bodies and voices and lights. So much all of the time, or well, until about ten at night. It was something she’d come to both love and resent.

 

Neither of them speak again until he’s pulled to the side of the house, throwing the car into park and switching his head lights off. The only sounds are of the engine running. Not for the first time Raven wonders if this was the worst idea she’s had in ages.

 

But then Wick smiles and turns off the car. He turns to pulls their bags from the back and she remembers how he wasn’t even fazed by her lame plastic bag of crap. “You ready?” he asks.

 

Raven knows the real answer, but offers him the one she knows she needs to give. “Yep,” and together they walk up the driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I wrote three chapters of Christmas fluff. Guess you guys are going to have to suffer for a few days.


	18. Escape All Your Uncertanties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it is Christmas Eve and Wick might just love every second of it.

**Wick’s POV**

It might seem selfish for Wick to spend so much time worrying about himself when Raven is undoubtedly nervous, but she’s asleep for most of the trip anyway. She passes out and leaves him to his own thoughts about his crazy family and all the things that could go wrong over the next couple of days. His aunt had a tendency to say things wildly out of line, like commenting on his relationship status. Not to mention his nosey cousins or any of their crazy kids. He knew better than to think that the kids wouldn’t all be asking a hundred and one questions about her leg. Raven would hate that.

 

In fact, she would probably hate everyone. And he couldn’t even blame her. They were his own family and he could barely even stand them. He prays that John doesn’t make any dumb comments and that Anya isn’t overly inquisitive and that, for the love of god, Indra’s giant ass dog doesn’t jump up and knock Raven to the ground.

 

The concern doesn’t ease once she finally wakes up and it certainly doesn’t lessen when they pull up outside of his aunt’s house, one more car along the road in front of it. Raven looks terrified so he smiles, making a point to behave like he’s not. “Hey wait,” he says once they reach the front door. It might be freezing out but, considering the circumstances, he was willing to brave it a little bit longer.  “We should have a safe word.”

 

“A…” she trails off and quirks an eyebrow. “What sort of a Christmas party did you bring me to, Wick?” she jokes but her voice lacks its usual humour.

 

“The kind with my family,” he tries to joke along. Perhaps it would be easier if it wasn’t so damn true. “I want you to be able to tell me if they’re bothering you or if your leg hurts or anything.” In an attempt to be nonchalant he shrugs. “I don’t want you to feel stuck.”

 

Raven smiles at him in return. “Is it weird?” she asks.

 

“My family? I mean, yes, but no weirder then-“

 

“No,” she cuts him off and leans back against the door frame. “Me being here. It’s not like…I’m not-we’re not…” He understands what she’s trying to say though she doesn’t quite find the words.

 

Wick leers and he can see the irritation pass through Raven’s eyes. “What are you trying to say, Reyes?” he asks, letting a teasing tone fill his voice as he leans a few degrees closer. It’s all totally a joke but still his heart stutters out a few beats faster as he starts to say, “Because if you want-“

 

The door swings open, effectively silencing his stupid little offer. It was probably for the best. Raven looked ready to kill him. “Uncle Kyle’s here and he’s brought a lady!” Anya’s oldest exclaims. The boy turns and runs, leaving the two of them standing out in the cold.

 

“Good start,” Wick mutters as he moves past Raven and into the house. A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” comes from the living room. His aunt makes her way into the foyer at once, an apron around her waist and a tense smile on her lips.

 

“I’m glad you made it safe,” she tuts, as she walks up and wraps him in a hug. He doesn’t hesitate to hug back. “The weather was getting nasty out there.”

 

“We’re here in one piece,” he reassures her. No matter how annoying and overbearing she could be, a part of Wick appreciated it.

 

At the word ‘we’re’ his Aunt Mary Anne seems to remember that it wasn’t just Kyle who was coming this time. She turns to Raven and immediately wraps the girl in a hug. Wick stands by helplessly. “So nice to meet you, darling,” she says with a tender pat to Raven’s cheek. “It’s been a long time since Kyle has had anyone in his life.”

 

He clears his throat and steps around his aunt to partially block her path to Raven. “Funny thing is,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “She’s just a friend in my life. Remember, Aunt Mary Anne? I’m bringing my _friend_ to Christmas.”

 

Her only response it to swat his chest with the back of her hand. “Go say hello to everyone in the family room. You have plenty of time to stumble over your words later.” Raven smirks which Wick hardly appreciates. “Nice to have you.”

 

Then she’s gone, leaving the two standing in the foyer with bags still in hand. “So that’s my aunt.” Raven laughs and Wick sets their bags down in the corner. “Let me introduce you to the rest of the crazies.”

 

Raven, to her credit, seems to have left her nerves at the door and walks confidently beside him as they turn the corner to the family room. “Uncle Kyle!” comes from a variety of small people. They drop their toys and come running, arms wrapping around legs and hands pulling at his shirt. One kid runs around back and attempts to jump onto Wick.

 

It’s a conglomeration of shouts and squeals with a few whines and ‘ows!’ mixed in. Even the boy who had originally left them out in the cold was now surrounding Wick as well.

 

“Did you bring presents?” one of the smaller girls asks, eyes wide and hopeful.

 

“Charlotte!” Echo reprimands from over on the couch. “That’s not polite.”

 

The little girl makes a small ‘O’ with her mouth and thinks for a second. “Did you bring any presents please and thank you?” Echo just rolls her eyes and says nothing else, patting her swollen belly.

 

Above all of the chaos Raven still manages to find Wick’s eyes, wide and alight with excitement as he reaches behind him to keep one of the kids from falling. “You didn’t tell me you were the pied piper,” Raven jokes. The words are enough for everyone’s attention to shift to her. Even the children fall silent as they drink in the stranger. “Hi,” she offers lamely. “I’m Raven.”

 

Wick removes the small humans from him and puts a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “She’s a friend of mine from work,” he clarifies. He knew better than to let everyone form their own ideas of how he knew her.

 

The adults finally stands from the couch, coming over to greet her. She shakes hands with the whole group of people and he can see in her eyes that she’s a little overwhelmed. John nods in greeting, staying in his seat. Seems about right, Wick thinks.

 

“But how will Santa find you?” Wick doesn’t recognise the boy with his dark skin and curly hair. He must be one of John’s new foster kids. He sounds very concerned; Wick wouldn’t be surprised if John and his husband hadn’t had to qualm this kid’s concerns about Santa’s ability to locate misplaced children already.

 

Raven opens her mouth to open but no response immediately comes. “Santa will find her,” he tells the little boy with a wink. “Don’t worry.”

 

Anya’s middle girl, Sasha, reaches for Raven’s brace and runs her hand along it almost reverently. “Did you hurt yourself?” she asks, tears of concern gathering in her eyes. She’d always been a sensitive child.

 

“Hey, don’t-“ he goes to stop the kids before they could carry on but Raven waves him off.

 

She nods at the little girl, staring down. “Yeah, I hurt my leg really bad a while ago. It doesn’t work right anymore but this makes it do its job a little better.”

 

All of the kids gather around, momentarily entranced by the long, black contraption that held Raven’s leg. “Like magic?” one of the children asks with eyes wide.

 

“Even better,” Raven answers, her entire audience captivated as they waited eagerly for her next words. She bends forward and the children all stand on tiptoes in anticipation of what she’ll say is better than _magic._ “It’s mechanics.”

 

The word isn’t familiar to them and they all drop their jaws in awe. “Mechanics,” one of them mouths quietly. “Did Santa give it to you?” another one of them asks.

 

Raven shakes her head, her ponytail swishing. “A doctor gave it to me.”

 

Sasha wrinkles her nose. “I don’t like the doctors. They give shots.” She grabs her arm as if she’d recently been assaulted by the shot giving doctor there. “Santa is better.” The group of kids all agree, nodding solemnly to her claim.

 

Raven smiles, swinging her gaze up from the kids to Wick who just grins widely back at her. The children are all distracted yet again as they hear a call for table setters coming from the kitchen. The lot of them immediately begin arguing.

 

“Ignore them,” Anya says with a tired sigh. “That’s generally my tactic.”

 

“Mother of the year!” John jokes as he raises his glass in a pretend toast.

 

From there it’s more chaos. Everyone talking over the other, loud laughs, and even louder jokes. The wine bottle gets passed around the room and the children needn’t any alcohol to appear completely intoxicated. Raven and Wick squeeze in on one of the couches and take in everything. Wick joins the conversation easily at times, Raven remains mostly silent.

 

Dinner passes by smoothly with only two drinks spilled, one from Garrett, Anya’s oldest, and one from Hunter, John’s husband. Wick notes Raven’s initial hesitation as she sits next to him, taking only the smallest portions of each dish. He rolls his eyes and makes a point to give her an extra scoop of each dish before serving himself. “Trust me,” he mumbles on his second scoop of potatoes. “There will be no shortage on food.”

 

After dinner everyone sits back, stomachs full and eyes heavy. “To the living room!” his aunt announces. This elicits cheers from the children and groans from most of the grownups.

 

Raven immediately stands and starts collecting the dishes, starting with hers and Wick’s. “Oh quit that right now, young lady,” his aunt jokingly reprimands.

 

“You cooked dinner, it’s the least I could do,” Raven insists, moving to grab Anya’s plate next.

 

“The least you could do is move your sorry rear end into the living room with the rest of the family and leave these dishes a happy mess on the table.” Raven nods and obeys, leaving the small pile she’s collected and pushing them further back on the table. Indra’s dog, Gustus, had already made a few attempts of food stealing.

 

Back in the family room everyone finds their seats once more. Wick squeezes back between Anya and Raven. He slings an arm over the back of the couch behind Raven but doesn’t move it any closer.

 

Something about this whole, being surrounded by families at the holidays, nonsense was leaving him feeling less and less like she is his friend from work and way more like she’s…damn it. He pulls his head out of his ass and tunes back into everything going on around him.

 

“What are we doing?” Raven whispers, leaning back so that she was closer to his ear. Her neck brushes against his arm but neither of them move away.

 

“Family tradition,” he half-whispers back, not stopping the impulse he has to reach his hand forward to tug on her ponytail. She swats at him but doesn’t verbally attack like he thought she might. In fact, she doesn’t even fully move away from him.

 

The kids all sit in a semi-circle on the floor, inching closer and closer as Mary Anne starts digging under the tree. She pulls out several wrapped boxes and turns to her husband for help. “Alright, who’s been good this year?” he demands resulting in loud claims of “Me! Me! Me!” and hands grabbing for boxes.

 

“Don’t give him one,” John says as his mom goes to hand Hunter a box. “He’s been a dick.”

 

His mother reaches forward and swats him. “As if I don’t know better,” she grumbles but hands over John’s box regardless.

 

Wick laughs good-naturedly and accepts his and Raven’s boxes from his uncle. He holds out Raven’s to her and she stares as though he’s grown a third head. “Merry Christmas Eve,” he says, pushing it a little closer.

 

“I didn’t-no one was-“

 

“Literally everyone gets one, just open it.” She hesitates a minute longer before taking the box from him and carefully pealing back the paper. Wick doesn’t waste time before clawing his open to reveal what ensemble had been selected for this evening.

 

“Sorry if it doesn’t quite fit, dear,” his aunt to Raven, coming up from behind her on the couch. Raven jumps but recovers quickly. “Kyle here didn’t sound too confident when I asked him your size but they’re for sleeping, so hopefully it doesn’t matter too much anyway.”

 

Raven beams, holding the Christmas pyjamas out in front of her and examining. “They look perfect; thank you so much Ms…”

 

“None of that,” she cuts her off. “Call me Aunt Mary Anne and leave it at that.”

 

With a firm nod Raven casts one more smile in her direction before turning back around. “You didn’t mention any traditions.”

 

“Oh I didn’t? Damn, I guess you’re not ready for the mud fight outside then.” She rolls her eyes but the smile on her lips doesn’t fully fade.

 

“It’s time for the show!” Garret, the oldest of the kid crew announces. Wick watches in silent horror as the children all attempt to play instruments and sing to common Christmas carols. Every year this “show” had been performed. Every year Wick was convinced it must have gotten better this time around. It turns out that this year is not the year of improvement.

 

Soon after the kids are all wrangled off to get ready for bed and the adults too start saying their goodnights. “I set up the basement for you two,” Wick’s aunt says in passing as she scoops up one of her grandchildren that was half asleep on the floor. “There’s a blow up bed and some extra blankets since it gets cold down there.”

 

And then she walks off, not acknowledging the fact at all that they needed two completely separate sleeping places as they were not together in any matter. “I’ll sleep up here with the kids,” Wick offers in a rush.

 

“I don’t even know where I’m going,” she reminds him before he’s even finished his statement. He grabs their bags from the front room and leads her to the door for the basement. She starts down the stairs first, her pace slow but steady. Wick walks patiently behind her.

 

The basement had only ever made it to halfway finished. The floor was carpeted but the ceiling was still just a series of rafters. The whole room did have an ominous chill throughout it. The one upside was the bathroom that had been completed down here.

 

Wick turns to walk back upstairs when Raven’s voice stops him. “Don’t be stupid,” she says before he even makes it to the first step. “I’m not going to make you sleep up there in munchkin central. Keep your hands to yourself and we’ll be just fine.”

 

He’s surprised at her willingness but doesn’t question it. In addition he also holds back every joke that immediately jumped to his mind. None of them would have helped to ease the awkwardness, that’s for sure. He changes into his pyjamas out in the room while Raven goes into the bathroom to put on hers and brush her teeth. She comes back out, pyjama top on but her skinny jeans still adorning her bottom half. She sits on the edge of the blow up bed and he watches as her hands make quick work of removing her brace.

 

Wick moves to go brush his teeth but she stops him. “Hey, Wick,” she says quietly. He turns and meets her eyes.

 

“Yeah?” he asks, not doubting for a second that she was sending him up to munchkin central now that she’d considered their predicament a bit further.

 

“Can you…help me?” she bites her lip, pulling the last of her brace off and letting her foot fall to the concrete heavily.

 

There’s no hesitation as he makes his way back over. “Of course, what do you need me to do?”

 

“I just need help balancing,” she tells him, not waiting for him to grasp what is happening before she’s unbuttoning her pants and hoisting herself to a standing position, her weight entirely on her right leg. She’s steady but he sees her predicament as she starts attempting to shimmy the pants off.

 

He walks over and wraps an arm under her shoulders. She brings a hand up to rest on one of his. It’s a lot of standing up, then sitting down, and back up again. Wick does his best not to look, trying to respect her privacy. But he can’t help watching how she guides her bad leg to do pretty much everything. She forces it through each pant leg, making use of rolling the material in order to help her out.

 

“Can you feel it?” he asks tactlessly, once she’s sitting back on the bed fully in her new pyjamas.

 

Raven looks up at him in surprise. Normally he abided by her unspoken rules. Today he had already crossed her carefully laid out boundaries twice. Some of it was natural curiosity; some was just that he wanted to understand her better. Her leg was a big part of her (there was a proportions joke waiting to happen) and he wanted to try and understand just how it impacted her life a little more clearly.

 

“Not so much anything external,” she answers and she holds out her hand for his. He gives it willingly. She takes his hand and pulls him down. He kneels in front of her and his breath hitches in his throat when he looks up and she’s right there in front of him.

 

Clearing her throat, Raven guides his hand down to her ankle and up to her knee. He doesn’t press hard and she puts a little more force on his hand as the reach the top of her knee. “Can you feel that?” he whispers. Maybe he was talking about the sensation in her leg but more likely he was talking about the electrical current that was travelling all through the air of his aunt’s previously freezing basement.

 

“No,” she says. She takes her own hand, hitting right at her knee with more force then Wick expected. He grabs her hand before she can move to do it again. “It’s fine. I can’t feel it.”

 

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” She lets him hold her hand between both of his for a minute before pulling it free.

 

“I can’t feel any sensations like that for the most part,” she says with a shrug. “But then there’s the internal stuff…that’s still there.”

 

“All of it?” he asks. He was good with certain things. For one, he knew his way around the periodic table of elements. There was no struggle in understanding chemical reactions or acid-base balances. Anatomy and physiology hadn’t ever been his strong suit.

 

She shakes her head. “I’m sure there’s something missing, like sometimes I can feel the lack of it more than what’s actually there…if that makes sense.” It doesn’t but he nods anyway. “But the pain when it’s in the brace too long or I don’t stretch it at all, or even if I use it too much…that I can feel.”

 

It would be hard to forget the day she laid on his couch, tears leaking out of her eyes as he pried the brace off her leg. Clearly some feeling must still be there.

 

“What happened?” he braves asking. She swallows heavily before shaking her head.

 

“It was just an accident,” she says, moving to lie down in bed. He watches her pull the leg into bed with her.  “Goodnight.”

 

Desperately he wants to push a little more, to eek out another answer or two before this intimacy between them is gone. But he knows better, so he shuts up and brushes his teeth.

 

When he climbs into the blow up bed, it dips beneath his weight and Raven falls slightly towards him. It makes her giggle, despite the previous tense moment. He playfully reaches over and pushes her back to her side. Her body was so tiny in comparison to his. Somehow even the extra small pyjamas still manged to hang off of her too thin body.

 

“What happened to your parents?” she asks while his hands are still on her, one on her shoulder and the other on her back. Immediately he stops trying to push her. His hands remain in place though.

 

It wasn’t that he _didn’t talk about it_. It was just that he hadn’t talked about it. There weren’t a ton of opportunities to discuss such a matter, and he wasn’t in the business of making opportunities either. “Died.” It’s a simple answer; the truth was usually simple after all. It was when you tried to cover things up that they got messy.

 

“How?” she breathes out. He removes his hands from her as she works to rotate her body around to face him. It hadn’t occurred to him before that something as simple as changing position in bed was impacted by her leg as well.

 

“Car accident.” It wasn’t fun to remember. The late night phone call, the teary eyed nurse, the shouts for crash carts and trauma kits. “Drunk driver.”

 

“Is he in jail?” Raven asks, holding her breath as she awaits the answer.

 

Wick flips to his back, fixing his eyes on the ceiling above. There were a few different spots where the light from upstairs shone through. “That would be kind of hard,” he says, clearing his throat. “Seeing as my dad was the drunk driver and he’s dead now.”

 

“Oh,” she answers, no more than a whisper in the darkness that vanishes as soon as it was released. “I’m sorry, I-“

 

“How about your leg?” he asks again because everything hurts. He hates that he remembers ID-ing their bodies. He hates remembering his older sister’s bloody, crying face. He hates that the only thing left to feel towards his father was animosity. Wick was counting on her to distract him.

 

It does occur to him that she might kick him out of the bed or cuss him out right there, with only ten minutes left until Christmas, but he doesn’t care. He has a hard time caring when he feels like he’s been gutted open for the first time in three years. “Gunshot,” she admits, the words choking out.

 

“Damn,” he says back. That wasn’t the answer he expected. “Is the guy who did it in jail?” He repeats her question back to her, hoping for a better conclusion to her story than there was for his.

 

“Nope,” is all she offers.

 

“These are some cheery Christmas conversations,” he jokes, eyes still watching the clock as it neared further still towards midnight.

 

“Thank you for inviting me, Wick,” she whispers, her hand reaching out to grab onto his in the dark. “It’s just nice not to be alone.”

 

It strikes him then how strongly he feels for Raven. Though it had never been his intentions and even as he’d tried to deny any feelings for her so many times, he knew for certain then and there that he had failed. He didn’t just worry about Raven or experience concern. He cared about her, the kind of caring that you feel in your stomach and your chest and right behind your eyes when something goes wrong. It was the kind of caring that seeped into every aspect of your life and you didn’t remember to be bothered by it because it felt so right.

 

“Ditto,” he whispers back, squeezing her hand. He did what he could to convey every ounce of feeling he had into that simple gesture. There were no more words to offer so he settles for the small amount of contact she allows.

 

Raven squeezes back and there’s just enough light for him to watch her eyes shut, her grasp unrelenting even as she drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you feel sick from the fluff yet? Hope you liked this one. It was definitely in my top five favourites to write!


	19. Don't You Forget About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Christmas morning is nothing but happy until it isn't.

**Raven’s POV**

There was something about the darkness that never failed to get her into trouble. She trusted the obscurity of nightfall, believing it would hold her secrets and tuck them away into the void. The truth was easy to confess when you could barely even see the person you’re speaking to. Unfortunately for her, Raven kept being reminded that morning always came around.

 

This one happens to announce itself with a repeated poke in the shoulder and a giddy call of her name. She groans, pulling the pillow out from under her head to place it over top of her face. It wasn’t even that bright, but she was hoping that this signal would send the shoulder poker away.

 

“Raven,” he insists, his hands getting a little more adventurous as they transition from poking to lightly ghosting up and down her arm. “It’s Christmas.”

 

The reality of everything comes back to her in a rush. She was in Wick’s aunt’s basement, sleeping in a blow up bed; next to him at that. And he was the one touching her. He was the one making the goosebumps raise on her arms. “I suggest you wake up before the little monsters come to get us.”

 

“Ugh,” she groans. Wick rips the pillow from her face and she cracks her eyes just enough to glower at him. “I hate you.”

 

“Rise and shine, buttercup,” he teases, poking her nose before he gets out of bed and makes his way to the bathroom. She can hear his teeth brushing from here.

 

Flopping out among the pillows and blankets Raven closes her eyes for another minute, revelling in the security of the moment. She was happy. Despite being in a cold basement on a barely passable bed with an idiot as a roommate brushing his teeth in the other room, she was really happy. The feeling leaves a block sitting in the back of her throat as tension builds behind her eyes.

 

She sits up before she can dwell on it anymore, completely uncertain if the tears threatening to come were happy or sad ones. She focuses on getting her brace to strap on correctly. The excess material of her pyjama pants made it harder than normal.

 

For several minutes she struggles, trying to keep the pant leg taut while also using both of her hands to start securing straps. With a sigh she looks up, feeling Wick standing there. “What was that? You’d like some help. Thank god I’m here.”

 

She hates him for being cocky but she appreciates him as he holds her pant leg nice and tight so she can get the job done. He peers up as she secures the last strap, his face almost level with hers. “Merry Christmas, Reyes,” he says quietly, pulling away and standing up.

 

Clearing her throat, she stands from the bed and runs her fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. “Yeah, yeah,” she waves him off. “Let me brush my teeth before I’m subjected to anymore festivities.”

 

He comes up behind her in the bathroom, hovering beside her reflection in the mirror. “Don’t lie. You had fun last night.”

 

Raven smiles in memory of the antics, causing some toothpaste to drip. She leans over the sink. Maybe last night hadn’t been so bad. Never before had she been surrounded by so many excited children. Though it was a bit of a headache inducer, it was also contagious. She found herself enjoying the squeals of joy and rambunctious laughter. Even though she detested the fighting that soon followed it.

 

“Let’s do this,” she says, coming out of the bathroom and offering Wick a smile. “And Merry Christmas.”

 

In response his smile widens and he pans his arms out toward the stairs in an ‘after you’ gesture. Already she can hear the clattering of dishes and the many conversations that were carrying through out the kitchen upstairs.

 

“About time you two woke up,” Indra comments when they walk in. “We were about ready to set Gus on you guys.” Raven smiles as the dog looks up at his master from the mention of his name, tail wagging. He was a vicious looking dog, but a total sweetheart was the only side Raven had yet to see of him.

 

There were more cheers from the kids when they saw Wick. Only this time it had less to do with his presence and far more to do with the fact that now everyone was awake and they would be permitted to open presents.

 

“Breakfast first!” one of the woman demands of the kids who all groan in complaint. “The faster you sit and eat and the faster you get to presents.” Everyone complies much more quickly after that.

 

Raven stands off to the side of the kitchen, unsure of what to do with herself amongst all of the other family activities. She noticed some of the dads helping their kids cut their pancakes and the mom’s tying little girl’s hair back in ponytails to prevent sticky syrup from getting in it. She feels a pang of bitterness, toward the kids with their attentive moms and toward the husbands and wives, working together to keep everything running along. She hated that this was her knee jerk response to so many things, but she couldn’t help feeling gipped when she watched scenarios like this play out.

 

The whole mothering thing hadn’t even been something Raven desired, especially as she got older, but there had been time when she thought she might create the family she’d never had. Finn used to love talking about it, head on her stomach as he discussed the future. A big house with a good security system, always more than enough food, and he wanted four kids running around the front yard. It wasn’t her vision, but it became theirs anyway. She missed the potential of a future as much as she resented the lack of a past.

 

The son of the family, John, comes to stand next to her. He didn’t seem to talk much, and when he did it was generally sarcastic. Raven saw the way he looked at his foster kids and his husband, though. It was quite the contrast from the man he seemed to portray. “So how long have you and Kyle been together?” he asks.

 

Raven rolls her eyes. “We’re just friends from work, honestly.” She knew the impression her presence would give his family but she didn’t think they’d be this open in their inquiries.

 

John scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Please, that guy has been a total loner since his family died, not that I blame him. If you managed to get a ticket to the family Christmas party then he must care about you an awful lot.”

 

Something with one of his kids catches his eye then and he pushes off the wall to go offer assistance. His words cycle through her head, introducing a thought she hadn’t fully considered until just now. Everything with them had just sort of…happened. She never intended for him to become a friend, never did she think that maybe he would grow to actually give a shit about her. The realisation that that is exactly why she’s standing in his extended family’s kitchen on Christmas morning sends a pang through her heart. It was all a bit too sentimental for her taste, but she was blaming all of the extra sleep she’d gotten for the way her emotions swelled.

 

Wick helps with passing out the plates of waffles and pancakes, trying to steal a plate for himself and getting a whack on the back of the head for it. The kids laugh at that almost as hard as Raven.

 

“Aunt Waven, come sit next to me!” one of the little girls says around a bite full of pancakes. She doesn’t bother to correct the girl on her title and instead walks over and sits down next to her, taking over on syrup pouring for the child before things could get any worse.

 

There’re sticky finger prints and mouths all around and Raven is a little bit put off by the one kid who just keeps shoving his hands in his mouth. The line of spit when he pulls it out doesn’t help her hold back a cringe.

 

After a few minutes Wick comes to sit beside her, offering her a plate of pancakes. “Not as good as mine,” he says while pouring a generous amount of syrup. “But they’re edible.”

 

Raven takes one bite and decides that he’s right, they’re ten times better than his. She tells him so and gets a tug on her ponytail in response. She sticks out her tongue and then they’re both reprimanded by Garrett. “You can’t pull girls hair,” he tells Wick sternly.

 

“Yeah, and sticking your tongue out is not polite,” the middle girl says with a vigorous nodding of her head.

 

“Guess no presents for me this year,” Raven says by way of explanation of the lack of Santa visitation. She had a feeling someone would be bringing it up before the morning was over.

 

They migrate to the living room where the kids immediately destroy every gift that so much slightly resembles their names written on it. There’s enough going on to prevent any proper fighting (not that it stops Sasha and Charlotte from arguing over who got the blue doll and who got the pink.)

 

As soon as they’re done the kids clamber up eagerly, knocking legs out of the way as they reached under the couch. “What the hell are you doing?” Indra asks, earning reproachful stares from everyone.

 

“Not nice, Aunt Indra,” Sasha informs her. Her stern stare quickly turns to a bright smile though as she holds out a card.

 

“We made Christmas presents too!” Marcus shouts, bouncing in place as he runs to his foster dads, his own homemade card being held out in offering.

 

The adults all ooh and ahh appropriately over their cards, Wick included. “Here we made you one too,” James, the other foster son of John, says.

 

Raven’s more than a little touched as she reaches out to take it. They had only met her yesterday. “We let Hannah draw on it a little too much,” he says, pointing out the back page that was a series of scribbles. “But Sasha made the snowflakes and _I_ did the stamps.”

 

It’s stupid, she barely even knows the kid, but being well thought of leaves her eyes watering regardless. The gesture reminded her of all those birthdays and Christmases when Finn scrambled together whatever he could find to offer her as a gift. “Thank you very much,” she says with sincerity pouring from her voice.

 

The little boy throws his arms around her and Raven falls back in surprise. “It’s okay,” he whispers in her ear as her arms loosely wrap around him. “One year Santa didn’t bring me presents either. It doesn’t always mean you’re bad, sometimes it just means someone forgot to love you.”

 

He scrambles from her arms and she lets him go, the tears building in her eyes without any way to slow them. “Excuse me,” she mumbles as she pushes off of the couch. There’s enough commotion that she hopes she’s slipped out unnoticed. She turns the corner to the blessedly empty kitchen and doesn’t fight the tears that fall from her eyes without volition.

 

Who else other than Wick would come to find her? “Are you okay?” he asks, taking one look at her and clearly knowing the answer.

 

“Are-are John and Hunter going to adopt those kids?” she asks around a sob that gathers in her throat. “Because someone needs to…someone…” she drops off, wiping at the tears as fast as they fall.

 

He reaches forward, one tentative hand placed on her shoulder. “They’re trying to, yeah,” he reassures her. “What’s this about, Raven?” His eyes watch her with careful concern and she remembers what everyone keeps saying. She remembers how Octavia compared his stare to Lincoln’s and what John had said in the kitchen just a couple hours earlier. For once she accepts that someone is concerned _for_ her, not just about her. That it comes from a place of caring, not a selfish worry.

 

“He said that before now people just…forgot to love him.” It doesn’t make total sense and she knows that but all those messy emotions keep getting in the way of a proper explanation. She doesn’t know how to say that there were so many years where people forgot to love her and how she tried so hard not to care. She wants to say that some hand drawn card by a few grade school children wasn’t a symbol of love but she’s overwhelmed just to have been thought of. And she feels weak for wanting and pathetic for needing, but she’s so damn tired of convincing herself and everyone else that she didn’t.

 

There are no words in her right now, though. Only thoughts and feelings and a swelling sadness. So she replaces every sentence and hope and memory with a hug. She throws her arms around his shoulders, ignoring the height difference and she clings to this stupid, annoying, co-worker turned friend like he was her lifeline. She’d had someone else be her lifeline before; she never wanted it to be that way again. But for Christmas morning she decides that she was going to let it happen, just for a few hours.

 

He hugs her back. Arms wrap around her and they feel strong and safe and secure in a way that she hasn’t known in so many damn years.

 

She pushes away, because she had this before and it went away.

 

She turns to hide her face, because it was her weaknesses that trapped someone to her years ago.

 

She walks from the room, because it was the inability to walk away that left her broken in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One full Christmas chapter left! I hope you enjoyed this one even though it wasn't quite as utter fluff as the one prior. As if these two could ever keep anything totally fluffy for long. Anyway, I'm hopeful that I'll be able to post again tomorrow. Thank you again to everyone who is reading and letting me know their thoughts! No time to reply to comments now but I will as soon as I get home :)


	20. A Good Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick falls in love (with Christmas).

**Wick’s POV**

As he watches Raven walk out of the kitchen Wick knows she’s swiping away the last of the tears that are going to fall as she goes. His heart is heavy, his arms suddenly like lead with the weight of her now gone. There had been a lot of things he might have expected during the festivities of Christmas surrounded by his extended family. One of them was not the partial breakdown of Raven Reyes in his aunt’s kitchen.

 

After she’s gone he feels stuck. Like his feet are glued to the floor, his eyes fixed on the wall she’d been standing against moments earlier. There had been quite a few different sides of Raven that he’d had the honour to encounter. He had seen her soft spots, her weaker moments. But nothing like that, nothing similar to the tears for an unloved little boy. He wishes that’s all it was. He wishes Raven didn’t see herself in little James.

 

“Are you seriously scoping out for more food?” Echo asks when she walks in the kitchen, her swollen stomach leading the way. “And if so, did you find anything?” In other circumstances he’d probably laugh. Instead he just turns away from the wall and faces his cousin. “Are you okay?” she asks. Though they weren’t close, by distance or relationship wise, Echo had been there when shit went down. Just like the rest of the extended family, they had all clogged his house and cooked casseroles food in his mom’s kitchen and cleaned out his sister’s bedroom. They’d all been there when the people who should be were suddenly gone. Echo was the one who had been best at letting him be sad. Everyone else was constantly trying to distract him or cheer him up. Echo knew how to find him in the darkness and not be afraid to join him. “Thinking about your family?”

 

Wick looks up, because he hadn’t been but now he was. “You guys are my family,” he answers, his own voice sounding foreign.

 

Echo nods, her hand running along her stomach. “It’s not the same though,” she says because somehow she’s always managed to understand. “I couldn’t imagine us not all being here for Christmas, Mom freaking out about the garland on the tree or Dad worrying over who’s blocking who in the driveway.”

 

Somehow she switches from making him feel better in her understanding to making him ache with her truth. “Yeah,” he says by way of acknowledgement. “Have you seen Raven?”

 

Her face softens, each feature smoother and sadder for him. “She’s back in the living room. I’d give her some space.”

 

Despite how quickly Raven may have reined in her emotions, the evidence of her outburst was sure to be clear still. He sighs, trying not to let the feelings weigh him down any further. “Thanks,” he whisper before walking back into the living room.

 

“There you are,” his aunt exclaims, herding Wick back onto the couch. “I’m trying to give out presents and you’re off stealing more cookies from the kitchen.”

 

He wipes away the sadness and paints on a mischievous grin, just the thing to get his aunt to buy her own story she created. Raven sits dully next to him, not making a move away or towards him. Wick reaches out and squeezes her good knee near him as he moves to accept his small pile of presents. With no one left to do it, his aunt and uncle had taken over the mandatory parent Christmas gifts. Socks, toothpaste, a new wallet, the sort of things that one needs that only parents would think to get. “Thanks guys,” he tells him sincerely when he opens the last of his gifts, a winter jacket that he’d been desperately in need of.

 

“I wanna wear Uncle Wick’s Jacket!” Charlotte declares excitedly, abandoning her toys.

 

Her grandmother waves her over and Charlotte obeys, listening as directions are whispered into her ear. She perks up immediately and darts back under the tree, emerging with another small stack of gifts.

 

She holds them out to Raven who takes them hesitantly. “It’s nothing big, sweetheart,” his aunt says from across the room. “But we couldn’t not get you something.”

 

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t get you-“

 

“Nonsense,” she cuts her off. “We don’t keep score in this family.”

 

Most of the time Raven has some sort of comeback, about a dozen or so reasons not to accept gifts or compliments or help, but she nods and smiles instead. Wick is a little astounded, the card from earlier must have worn her down.

 

She gets many of the same things he did, gloves, an electric toothbrush, a bottle of lotion. All small things but she lights up at each and every one, expressing her gratitude as she unwraps them.

 

The presents are declared officially over after that, and the kids immediately run upstairs to change into snow clothes. They’d all received sleds for Christmas and this fresh snow fall was perfectly timed. It continued to come down at a steady pace even now, the total amount accumulating nearly a foot.

 

“You too might need to stay another night,” his uncle says gruffly as he looks out the window. “The last thing we need is anyone getting hurt on the way home.” He had his own form of protectiveness. Especially after what happened with Wick’s parents. There hadn’t been a drop of alcohol in the house for two years after it happened.

 

“We’ll see how it clears,” Wick answers with a glance in Raven’s direction. She was probably more than ready to go home.

 

The family room is all cleared out as quickly as it had been filled this morning. Everyone makes it outside, parents supervising and grandparents taking enough pictures to fill photo albums to account for at least three years of Christmases. Raven and Wick stay seated on the couch, his leg pressed up against hers and her eyes fixed on the lit tree in front of them.

 

He gets up and doesn’t say a word as he walks from the room. He runs down to the basement and grabs what he needs, reappearing before she’s moved an inch.

 

Raven watches him with cautious eyes as he sits down next to her again, holding out a poorly wrapped gift. “Wick…” she sighs, looking from the present in his extended hand to him.

 

“Come on,” he argues, waving it in her face. “You didn’t give my aunt any shit.”

 

“I was afraid she was going to force feed me gravy and biscuits and christen herself godmother of my unborn children if I didn’t comply.” Her voice is still hollow but he laughs regardless, that is exactly the sort of fear his aunt could strike in your heart.

 

“Just…take the damn gift, Raven.”

 

She does, testing its weight on the palm of her hand and teasing him by shaking it near her ear. “It’s a Barbie,” she taunts, infusing the joking tone back into her voice.

 

“Dream life mechanic Barbie 2k16,” he jokes back because he could totally see Raven being the kid who wanted things like that. Then he remembers that it was probably a lot more simplistic things that she wanted.

 

Tearing off the paper she doesn’t hide her surprise when she reads what the set of books say. “Official certification study guide for mechanics,” she murmurs under her breath. Her gaze goes from the books to him and back to the books. “This is way too much.”

 

“I put the money I would have spent getting my truck fixed on it,” he explains with a shrug. “It didn’t make or break me either way.” He knows she’s going to argue and is hardly surprised by the opening and closing over her mouth as she tries to defend the fact that he’s ridiculous. “Use them, study them, and then go become the best goddamn seventeen year old mechanic this nation has ever seen.”

 

“Eighteen,” she corrects, still staring awestruck at the series of study manuals in her hands. It was a terrible gift really, but one he knew she would appreciate. It was a gift that could make a difference for her. The fine line between surviving off of barely enough paychecks and hardly any sleep, and living doing what she loves and having something in the bank to show for it. “I’d be the best goddamn eighteen year old mechanic the nation has ever seen.”

 

Wick pauses, he knew that she’d been seventeen not that long ago. “You never told me you had a birthday,” he accuses.

 

She shrugs, uncaring of his accusatory tone. “Hardly seemed important,” she mumbles. He’s ready to launch into all the reasons why it is when she stands from the couch, books still in arm as she makes her way to the basement door.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

She looks back at him, lips quirked up at the corners. “I’m hardly going to let everyone else have all the fun,” she says before disappearing downstairs.

 

He waits a minute, staring after her, and then he follows. He pauses on the stairs, completely not expecting to walk down to find Raven removing her shirt, leaving her bare back in view. In an attempt not to be a total perv he clears his throat and covers his eyes. “What exactly kind of fun are you having?”  he asks, unable to keep from smirking at his own suggestive comment.

 

Though he can’t see anything, he can imagine Raven turning to face him and rolling her eyes. “Shut up,” she sighs and he hears the sounds of velcro being pulled loose. Cautiously he makes his way down the rest of the stairs, using his other hand to guide him. “Everyone else is outside sledding and having fun and we’re in here missing out.”

 

Instinct is to ask about her leg. Common sense is to warn her to be careful. “You make a good point, Reyes,” is what will make her the happiest. Over in the corner with his own belongings he opens his eyes, keeping them downcast as he rifles through his bag. He hears her struggle over on the bed, pulling her skinny jeans on once again no doubt. Though he wants to offer help he stays right where he is, pulling his own pyjama shirt off and replacing it with something warmer.

 

“Hurry up, slow poke!” she taunts, letting him know that he could turn back around now. She’s pulling on that jacket again, the one he gave her, and zipping it up to her chin. “We’re going to miss out on all the fun.”

 

Wick shakes his head but hurries his movements regardless, trying not to be hyperaware of the fact that Raven stood there, silently watching him. “Do you mind?” he asks as he goes to shuck his pants.

 

With a shrug she turns around. “Are you worried I’ll be overcome with desire at the sight of your bare legs?”

 

He hates her a little bit. “I’ve heard it’s quite the problem,” he attempts to joke back. He was doing his best to pretend that was not what he wanted. (And also trying to remind other parts of his body of this fact.) “Why don’t you go find some scarves and gloves in this place?”

 

She hmphs on her way up the stairs but doesn’t say anything else. He falls onto the bed once he hears the door to upstairs slam shut. She was too damn much.

 

\--------------------------------------------------

 

Outside it’s even more miserably cold than Wick had anticipated. His aunt stands off to the side of the activity, camera in hand and smile plastered on. ‘I’m a very lucky woman,’ she would always say in moments like these. ‘A long life and surrounded by my grandchildren.’ Wick was glad she was appreciative. He’d prefer if she didn’t blatantly remind him that his mom would never get to be so lucky.

 

Kyle doesn’t hesitate to join in on the activities, teaching the kids the best way to push off in order to go fastest. He pushes them down the hills and he rides down with Sasha snuggled on his lap, a death grip on his jacket.

 

At first Raven struggles with getting up the bank of snow to where the top of the hill was. Wick didn’t say anything as he came up behind her, swinging and arm around her shoulders. “I’m fucking tired, Reyes,” he puffs out. “Help me up there?” Obviously she’s well aware what he’s doing. She throws an arm around him as well though and allows him to half carry her up the hill.

 

“I wanna go with Aunt Raven!” the kids start shouting, fighting over who gets to go down on Raven’s lap.

 

She laughs at the fighting but Wick tightens his arm on her shoulder. “Get in line, munchkins. I get to go first.” There are several cries of ‘not fair!’ but he ignores them, taking one of the sleds and helping her to sit on it. “Hope you weren’t too attached to any of your body parts,” he jokes with a wink before jumping on and sending them both flying down the hill.

 

He expects tight hands and loud screams of fear. Instead she throws her hands in the air and squeals with delight, sounding as joyful as the kids did. The sled hits a bump, throwing both of them off and leaving Wick face first in the snow. He pops up, immediately seeking Raven out. She doubled over in laughter, snow caked in her hair, but she points a finger at his own frost covered face and giggles endlessly.

 

“Pull it together,” he says, running a hand down his face to get the snow off. He can’t be properly mad though, not when she laughs like that. He goes over to help her and she pulls him down, packing snow in her bare hands and throwing it across the foot and a half of distance. “Is that how this is going to go down?” he asks, more than happy to comply with her childish behaviours. If she wanted a snow fight he was more than willing to give her a snow fight. And if she thought he was going to let her win then she had something new coming to her. It’s a mess of half-formed snow balls and some slight grappling. Their hands are freezing and their hair striped in ice crystals. The whole time they’re both trying to contain their laughter. Raven takes advantage of when he’s paused, his gaze stuck watching her. She slams into him, knocking him back onto the snow and then takes a handful of snowing, holding it tauntingly over his face.

 

He loses. But in his defence, she fights dirty.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Back inside the kids, and most of the adults, are immediately sent to change as his aunt makes hot chocolate. Wick finishes changing first, trading out his clothes while Raven isn’t blatantly staring this time around. He walks back up to the kitchen and sits himself on one of the counter tops.

 

It doesn’t take long for his aunt to whip him with the towel, telling him to get down. “She’s a lovely girl,” she comments, eyes fixed on the hot chocolate powder she stirred in. “Where did you find her?”

 

Wick smiles, because he hadn’t found her, not really. She’d been given to him. Be it from the universe or a series of coincidences or Raven herself. But he hadn’t been the one to find her. She wasn’t the type to let herself be found unless that was what she wanted. “We both work at the hospital,” is all he bothers saying, taking the cup of cocoa she offers.

 

Aunt Mary Anne looks ready to reprimand him on his gratuitous use of marshmallows, but says nothing. “So what’s her story?” she asks instead. People didn’t just come with friends to an out of state family Christmas. His aunt knew there was some back story to go along with the girl.

 

Wick thinks about it, wondering how to explain something he still didn’t fully understand himself. He’s cut off from his answer as little James comes running downstairs, John running after him with a handful of laundry. “The clothes monster will get you!” he grunts after the boy, eliciting a scream.

 

With a smile Wick watches them, remembering the words the little boy had spoken earlier to Raven. “Someone forgot to love her,” he answers, giving his aunt a sad smile.

 

She pats his cheek, rubbing her thumb across the bone like his mom always used to. “Well then it’s a good thing she has you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of Christmas fluff! Glad it seems you enjoyed them, hope this one didn't disappoint. Sorry I didn't post last night like I said. I was so tired that it didn't seem like a good idea to attempt to edit then. Disney World is planned for tomorrow so odds of me posting are kind of iffy, I'll try my best though. Thanks to all of you!


	21. Only Friend I Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven reveals too much because of a song

**Raven’s POV**

“I really should go home,” Raven murmurs more to herself than to Wick Christmas night. Dinner has finished, the sun set, and the kids exhausted and cranky from such an exciting day. It wasn’t that she wanted to leave, but the idea of just what her mother may have gotten into was enough to leave her too anxious to make it worth staying. After all, there wasn’t anyone else to ensure the woman didn’t choke on her own vomit in the middle of the night. It wasn’t that she could save her mom, Raven hadn’t deluded herself that far, but sometimes she thought that maybe she could keep her alive one extra day or month or year. Being away from her, this far away especially, it makes her nervous. She’s nervous of what she’ll come home to. And she’s nervous that if she’s here too much longer she won’t want to go home at all.

 

Wick nods, no questions asked, no arguments made. “I’ll go get our stuff,” he tells her and disappears to the basement. The carefree, happy moments from outside hours ago were long forgotten. She wasn’t the girl who rolled around in the snow on Christmas day, at least not most of the time. There was something about that stupid boy that changed her. Everything felt lighter with him. It was a nice break from the heavy burdens she generally carried.

 

“Will you come back?” one of the kids asks her. Raven thinks it might be Charlotte but she hadn’t quite sorted them all out yet. She’s all tired eyes and sleepy yawns, but she looks up at Raven with a hopeful stare that breaks her down.

 

“I would very much like to,” Raven tells the little girl. Arms are immediately wrapped around her middle, knocking her slightly off balance at first. Raven hugs the girl back the best she can with the height difference.

 

As Charlotte pulls away she presses a kiss to Raven’s leg. “So that it will get better,” she tells her with a bright smile and happy eyes. Raven tells her thank you as she skips away, a new bought of energy discovered.

 

“It was wonderful meeting you,” Echo says with a kiss to Raven’s cheek. This family was all a bit too affectionate for Raven, but after all the hospitality she could hardly shrug everyone off. “You’re good for him,” she whispers in her ear before pulling away.

 

Words get stuck in her throat. Claims of ‘he’s just a friend’ and ‘I’m not even good for myself’ sucked down and away. Nothing comes out though; she just stands there like an open mouthed fool until Wick comes around with bags in hand. She reaches to take some of the things he carried.

 

“Where is your suitcase?” Mary Anne asks her, taking in the things Wick was carrying. There was one tattered duffel bag, his obviously.

 

“I spilled coffee all over it on the way here,” Wick answers for her, handing her a bag full of their gifts. “We opted for the plastic bag instead of her smelling like coffee all weekend.”

 

She heaves a sigh and then pulls first Wick into a hug, kissing his cheek and pretending not to have tears gathering when she backs away. “You’ll call me when you get home, won’t you? And none of that, ‘didn’t want to wake you,’ nonsense.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” he says, allowing for one more hug.

 

Raven feels like an intruder, knowing this was a personal moment between Wick and his aunt. A woman in fear of losing what was left of her sister’s family and a nephew leaving behind the only form of family he had left. But then she too is being wrapped in a hug. It’s warm and soft and she remembers the nights when she was so small that her mother could still carry her from the couch to bed, laying her down and kissing her cheek. There had been happy times. They just so often got covered by the bad ones. “You don’t be a stranger either, got it?”

 

Raven nods and smiles, still caught up in her memories. “Of course.”

 

“And keep him in line. He’s trouble this one.” It was funny because it was true.

 

Wick shakes his head, “Alright, alright, that’s enough fun on my expense. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

“That’s a bad word, Uncle Wick!” someone calls from the other room.

 

Those kids were the biggest bunch of tattle tales Raven had ever met. “That’s our cue,” she says, opening the door and holding it for Wick and his armful of stuff. It was funny; she thought to herself, seeing him carry all of the bags reminded her of a little over a month ago when he had introduced himself as a professional carrier. He wore his same dopey smile and walked his familiar loping walk. At the time he’d gotten on her last nerve. For a brief second she lets herself be grateful that he did.

 

The ground was still covered in a layer of snow, all of the grass and branches buried beneath the clean layer of white. At least on the front lawn. The backyard was a bit of a different story due to all of the sledding. The roads seemed mainly clear at least. Otherwise Raven didn’t question for a single second that his aunt would be making them stay another night.

 

As they climb in the truck, the things are tossed to the back and they both wave to the small party which had gathered on the front porch. It was sweet, knowing so many people were sad to see just one someone go. It makes Wick crack open wide with smiles as he waves wildly back. It makes Raven crack open with sadness as she offers her own farewells.

 

In the truck things feel much the same. Though so much happened, between her and Wick, for her independently as well, everything feels as familiar as the ride here.

 

It’s dark and quiet, and Raven leaves it that way as Wick navigates his way out of the neighbourhood and back towards I-95. The roads are patchy, but overall nothing terrible. He relaxes once they’ve turned onto the highway and she waits for him to talk. She waits for the questions or the jokes or the sigh of relief. But things stay silent and heavy.

 

All of a sudden everything is too stuffy and hot, she reaches over and cranks down her window. She was grateful for the icy cold air that hits her face, sending shivers all through her body.

 

Wick gives her all of two seconds before asking, “What the hell are you doing, Reyes?” She cranks it up without complaint. It was eight degree outside after all. “Are you deranged? Did you hit your head sledding?”

 

Shaking her head she reaches over to mess with the radio. “Hey, Wick,” she says, her fingers still scrolling through the stations for something decent.

 

“Yeah?” he asks, glancing over at her. The Deja vu is strong. It was like the last two days could not have happened at all.

 

“Thanks for taking me,” she says, biting her lip at the thought. “It was…I had a good time.”

 

He smiles that goofy smile that she knows means he’s too happy not to. “Merry Christmas, Raven.”

 

The sentiment is simple, and a little bit cheesy, kind of how the whole day has been. “Don’t get sappy on me, Wick.” She settles on some station that seems to be playing nothing but outdated top 40 hits, most of them only from two or three years ago which meant they were still old and tired but not yet a throwback. It’s familiar though, and she finds it easy to sing along to the lyrics.

 

After an hour on the road she throws her brace in the backseat, entirely tired of wearing the thing. She does her best to stretch in the cramped truck. After two days of semi-rest, it feels much better than normal, the muscles not quite as tight or unforgiving.

 

“Do you go back to work tomorrow?” Wick asks over top of Pink’s Raise Your Glass anthem. “Or well, today, I guess.”

 

She’s surprised to glance at the clock and discover it’s already after midnight. “Just at the hospital,” she says around a yawn. “See you there?”

 

She sees his answering smile in the headlights of a passing car. “Of course.”

 

\---------------------------------

 

For this car ride Raven resolves herself to stay awake. After all, there wasn’t much point in having a friend on a road trip if they just slept the whole time. The two of them make easy conversation, light things like books and movies, and he talks her into playing more than one stupid game. The games seem slightly less stupid as she proceeds to beat him at each and every one.

 

He makes a lot of dumb jokes and the hours and miles wear on long enough that Raven actually begins laughing at them. That just encourages him to make more jokes. She cycles through a dozen different stations as they pass through cities and states. He complained each time she stopped on a rap song but he got as much of a kick listening to her rap as she did doing it. It was obvious in the way his eyes glanced over and the wide smile he wore. Every once in a while she even throw in a head bob or a shimmy of her shoulders.

 

Perhaps she was actually good to have on long car rides.

 

A Lorde song comes on and Raven doesn’t hesitate to reach over and turn it up. She knew the song word for word but she soaked up the lyrics of ‘I’ve never felt more alone, it’s so scary getting old’ as the road vanishes beneath them with each mile. It’s monotonous, especially with the road so empty and the trees unrelenting beside them. The only variations are in the occasional truck or billboard advertisement.

 

Raven taps on her knee along with the beat when the music swells, the words quickening. “You’re the only friend I need,” she sings out unabashedly. “Sharing beds like little kids. Laughing till our ribs get tough, that will never be enough.” She laughs as the lyrics go onto repeat, looking over at Wick as she sings out “You’re the only friend I need,” one more time, the rest of the words vanishing from her mind when he looks over at her at the same time.

 

Lorde repeats the lyric, “that will never be enough,” a few more times as the song fades out. Raven bites her lip, a little bit embarrassed at her claim but equally high off the singing and the darkness and the fact that for once in her life she’d gone all this time without feeling alone.

 

It used to always be like this. She tried so hard not to remember when times were better and easier and happier. She puts so much effort in not remembering the days of spinning in her bathing suit at some party or another, just tipsy enough and enjoying the feeling of her feet hitting the stone as she danced to songs on the radio. She tried not to think about giggling in Octavia’s room until two a.m. in the seventh grade. She worked so, so hard to forget Finn tickling her half-heartedly as they lay together in the backyard, warmed by the sun and full from each other. She use to be a happy girl all of the time. Now she clung to these moments when things were easy and good again. Before everyone grew up and people died and others went to rehab and new girls appeared.

 

“You sure do know a lot of songs,” Wick comments, easy words to distract from the heavy mood.

 

Raven shrugs, then smiles. “Yeah, there used to be a lot of music in my life.”

 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, his grip relaxing on the steering wheel. She knew he was trying to portray nonchalance. She was well aware that he was acting like he didn’t care when she knows he really did.

 

So she nods, but then she remembers it’s not only dark but he’s watching the road, not her. “Yeah, Finn…he played guitar. He was always learning something new, trying to sing to it, which was terrible.” She laughs, caught up once again in memories of happier times with a person who was once hers. “I’d sing for him, save everyone’s ears from bleeding.” Wick doesn’t speak so she keeps talking. “And I used to spend a lot of time with Octavia. Did you know she used to be a dancer? Ballet and hip hop, some jazz when she was younger too.”

 

She looks down and picks at her nails, all too aware of how much talking she was doing. There was a reason she tried to keep herself from remembering these times. It made her yearn for things that would never again be the same. “Any time we were together it tended to turn into some form of a dance party.” She chuckled, remembering being young and carefree, Octavia’s hair spinning all around her face as she jumped on her bed, shouting out Kanye West lyrics with enough volume to get the police called.

 

“Did you ever go to school dances?” he asks, keeping her thoroughly engaged in her past and therefore keeping her talking.

 

School dances were always a bit of a hot mess, such a struggle for her to get there, but always worth it in the end. “I did, for the two years I was in high school anyway. Parties too. I danced a lot at parties.”

 

Wick snorts from his side of the truck. “I’m sorry, I just…I can’t see you at a party.”

 

She laughs too, because it was true. Now she would stick out like a sore thumb amongst all the music and alcohol and weed. She’d be too unsteady to so much as walk through the crowds, let alone attempt dancing. “I am a great time, for your information,” she jokes instead though.

 

No part of her expects him to respond with, “As if I didn’t already know that.” He smiles at her and she remembers smashing snow into his face with a wide grin. “So what about now?” he asks, leading the conversation back to her.

 

“What about now?” she answers, the grumble returning to her words. She didn’t want to remember now anymore. The past was a welcoming reminder of the person she once had been able to be. She longed to be that girl again, to manage to be so carefree. There had been so many times where she wondered what it was that allowed her to be that way. Finn’s dependability, all four of her limbs functioning properly, her youth not yet capable of accepting the darkness of her reality. Whatever it was, she wanted it back.

 

“Is music still a thing?” he asks, fingers drumming on the steering wheel to the song that was currently playing. He really did know all the right ways to make it seem like he didn’t care. Raven knew how to read right through him.

 

“I guess music wasn’t ever important to me like it was to musicians or singers or anything. Music was…” she drops off, trying to think of why it ever really mattered to her. “It was something that tied me to people, I guess. It made memories without me even knowing it.”

 

She sees him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Like with Finn?”

 

It was an innocent enough question. She couldn’t blame him for being curious, especially after her friends filled him in on the basics. He probably had a dozen questions about this boy who had once been so prominent in her life and whose death had left her so useless. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Finn was…definitely someone a lot of songs were tied to.”

 

His practised nonchalance is broken as she watches his hand tense just slightly on the steering wheel. “Do you miss him?”

 

Raven rubs at her knee. It was a habit she’d picked up ever since it had stopped working, rubbing it like a genie in a magic lamp. As if with enough time and practise it would spur back into feeling.  “Every day,” she admits quietly. Her chest feels tight just at the mention of him. “In the end…things were bad,” she consents. There was no denying the struggles they went through and their ending split. But he’d still been _there._ Alive and knocking on her door every other day, bringing her the medications she needed or an extra plate from dinner. Even when he was gone he had still been a part of her life. The permanence of death took that away for good. “But I miss the way things used to be. I owe Finn my life, several times over.”

 

“He took good care of you?” Wick asks, his voice low. She swears she can hear the hope in his voice.

 

There were times when there had been no one else. Just Finn. “Yes,” she says simply. “Better care of me than himself.” He’d always been looking out for her. Keeping her out of trouble at the cost of getting himself into it, skipping meals to make sure she ate. “It was the biggest problem in our relationship. He was responsible for me in ways that a teenage boy should never have to be for his girlfriend.” The things he did…they were above and beyond any reasonable expectations.

 

“He still did a shitty thing,” Wick reminds her. She’d made her peace with his cheating a long time ago. They’d been so young when things between them happened, and even before then he had been so solely responsible for her. He hadn’t so much as looked at anyone else since third grade when they’d first met. Unfailingly there for her, unflinchingly giving to her. She couldn’t deny him the desperation for something…someone else. It was normal for him to want someone who didn’t need him so completely.

 

Even so, it still hurts to remember those times. “He was stuck,” Raven says in memory. “He couldn’t break up with me. Not when he was my source for another meal.” These were confessions she never meant to make. Even her closest friends didn’t know just how dire things had been when she was young. They hadn’t noticed her in the elementary school classroom, the same clothes from kindergarten still falling off her frame. They missed the six months she was sick, never able to recover from a simple flu because her body didn’t have the resources to pool from in order to fight the virus. It wasn’t until fifth grade that she became friends with Octavia, middle or high school for everyone else. Only Finn had ever seen just how vulnerable she once was. She’d been a scrawny kid with too big of a mouth and too much contempt for so few years of living. He’d been a little too observant and a lot too obsessed with saving people.

 

“I’m sorry about what happened to him,” Wick concedes, maybe because he can hear the tremble of her voice or notices the yearning she’s suddenly experiencing. “I’m glad…I’m glad he was around to help you.”

 

“Me too,” she whispers, letting her head fall against the window as she watches the dark road pass beneath them. Prying up the memories of another lifetime was not a common activity for her for a very specific reason. She felt emptied out by the time she was done. In contrast to the girl she used to be, it wasn’t entirely wrong. “So your turn,” she announces, trying to perk back up.

 

Again, his hands tighten on the steering wheel and he clears his throat. He cracks his neck one way and then the other. Raven glances at the clock and notes there’s only a little over an hour left of the trip at this point. “I had a sister,” he admits quietly. A piece of information he left out last night. “Two years older and a pain in the ass. She lived through the accident.”

 

It wasn’t the confession she’d been expecting, actually looking more for favourite childhood pastimes or costumes of Halloweens past. Instead the heavy words add to the weight she already feels is crushing her. “Where is she now?” she brings herself to ask, afraid of the answer.

 

“She killed herself two weeks after my parents funeral.” The words come out harsh, hateful even. Raven wonders when the last time he admitted that was.

 

“Shit,” she breathes, caught off guard and more than a little uncertain of what else to say. “I’m sorry.”

 

He shrugs. She knows the words make no real difference. “She thought it was her fault. She knew Dad was drunk, but she also knew that he didn’t like other people telling him what to do. So she let him drive to save herself the fight.”

 

It’s a terrible thing to live with, Raven admits, but that’s what you had to do. Live with things. Just like she lived with her leg and Octavia lived with her mistakes, you moved on as best you could and faced another day. Or at least, you don’t abandon your brother when you’re the last living family member he has. “How old were you?”

 

“Nineteen…wait no, twenty actually. Technically an adult but still…”

 

Raven had lost her whole family in one fell swoop as well. She knew what it was like. “Age doesn’t make a difference,” she says quietly. “No one is ever prepared to say goodbye to the people they rely on.”

 

“Yeah,” Wick agrees quietly. “We’ve sure got a knack for depressing conversations, don’t we,” he says by means of a joke. Raven cracks a smile, more for his sake than her own. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

 

“A nice sentiment,” she comments and then taps the clock with her fingernail. “But I’m afraid Christmas is over.” It’s sobering, saying the words and removing herself from this weird parallel universe she’d slipped into over the holiday. A place where kids made her cards and families welcomed her with open arms. It was somewhere that she confessed secrets in the dark and wasn’t afraid that now someone else held them too. It had been a brief stint of lightness. The darkness of reality seeps right back in as Wick exits the highway, the Welcome to Newark signs reminding her she was home once more.

 

Without questioning Wick drives towards her home, hand tight on the steering wheel when he pulls in. “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says as she works to strap her brace on. His eyes are watchful, observing her methods.

 

It’s uncomfortable, having someone watch her do something that usually remained so private. The brace was a part of what kept her going, like an extension of a body part. It was foreign to know someone was as aware of it as she was. “Tonight,” he reminds her, looking away and over at her dark, empty trailer. “Thanks for coming, by the way.”

 

She nods. She had already thanked him enough times for bringing her; it seemed silly to continue to do so. “Goodnight.” He hands her the two bags from the back, one filled with her clothes and the other with the gifts she’d received.

 

She slips out of the truck and climbs the two stairs to the trailer, waving goodbye with her free hand as she unlocked the door. Wick didn’t pull away until she was inside, the door shut behind her. Taking a deep breath, Raven flips the light to survey the damage.

 

To her surprise, there’s little more than an empty bottle of tequila on the ground and a few used cigarettes cluttering the couch and carpet. Her mom wasn’t a big smoker. She knew that meant that visitors had been over at some point. Her mother’s bedroom door is shut, no light spilling out from underneath of it.

 

Just like so many nights before, all those times when she’d arrived after overnight shifts and long days away, she cracks the door open. There were two very different parts of her that constantly battled a war based off of what she wanted. Some part hoped she’d open the door, find her mother breathing and sleeping off her intoxication. Then she could shut it behind her and go to bed, resting to prepare for another day to come. But another part of her, a side that was so dark and evil and cruel that she didn’t like to acknowledge its existence, wanted something completely different. She wanted to find her mother dead. No more breathing, no more heart beating. She’d call an ambulance, or maybe the police, Raven wasn’t sure who would get there first. She would tell them what happened, the whole sordid story. Then her mother would be buried, or burned, or whatever happened to bodies of people who had died a long time ago. Her burdens would die that same night, the endless worry and embarrassment and constant reminder that she wasn’t enough, it would drive off in that ambulance, zipped in a body bag.

 

That made her not just a terrible daughter, but also a terrible person. It wasn’t right to just run when things were tough. It wasn’t the responsible thing to do to just abandon someone in favour of something better. She should know. She had been on the other end before. Being stuck was awful. Being someone who ran away was even worse.

 

She cracked the door. Her mother breathed deep, life giving breaths.

 

Raven slept in her Christmas pyjamas again that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not fluff necessarily but still a relatively good time between the two. The song mentioned is Ribs by Lorde and it's actually where this whole fic started. I heard that song and thought of those two at the bridge and worked backwards from there. It was another monster chapter but let me know what you think. Thanks for your comments, I promise to reply to them all this weekend! My vacation has ended so updates should be back to normal, however I am going home to a massive snow storm so wish me luck!


	22. Unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick spends a whole night looking for someone.

**Wick’s POV**

There was something about being away, even if it was just to another familiar place, which made everything feel different for a little while. A part of Wick was always surprised to come back to things being just the way they had been when he left. There was still his dirty cereal bowl sitting in the sink and the pile of ignored mail was still waiting for him to offer it some attention. The streets are still the same, the signs and trees and traffic lights were all as consistently there as before he’d left. The familiarity was both nice and frustrating to come home to.

 

Though he tried not to grow restless with things being just the same, he couldn’t quite help it. Especially when everything had felt so very different in the moment. He didn’t want any more of the same, not when he felt so ready for something different.

 

He spends the day after Christmas sleeping. Then he goes to work and does his job adequately, greeting his old friends with a smile as if he’d been away for more than just a holiday weekend. Raven’s there, they collaborate on plans for their project. No one mentions dead families or ex-boyfriends or kids who hadn’t been loved.

 

Every once in a while he does catch himself smiling a little too wide or staring a little too long. If Raven notices too, she doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ask her how she’s doing. She doesn’t offer the information. It’s a choreographed dance of perfection, stepping right over the matters they didn’t want discussed and spinning right into the things that were easy and familiar.

 

New Year’s Eve is his holiday to work. He hardly minds, it wasn’t like there was anyone to go out with. Monty is off, the lab work left to a different tech who must have drawn the short straw, considering the amount of grumbling he did.

 

The clock hits midnight very uneventfully. The room is empty when it does. Wick is convinced this other guy is taking shots in the bathroom. The phone rings exactly one minute after the new year strikes. “Hello?” he answers with a grunt and a question.

 

“Happy new year!” It’s a loud chorus of people, music and laughter in the background of their shouts.

 

His smile is bright and immediate. It’d been a while since he’d had someone to ring in a New Year with, let alone a whole group. “Thanks guys, Happy New Year to you too.” He does his best to distinguish the voices in the answering cheers and shouts. With a laugh he realises that most of them are probably drunk.

 

“Tragedy you aren’t here,” Jasper declares, his words indicating a hint of intoxication but not so far gone that he can’t compose a sentence. “Raven misses you!”

 

Then he hears a smack and an ‘ow!’ coming from the other end of the line. He tries not to smile (he fails). “Aw, how cute, Reyes.”

 

She growls something that sounds similar to, “Shut the hell up.” It was hard to understand.

 

There’s more shouting and cheering, probably from people kissing and drinks being handed out. With a shake of his head he realises that half of them aren’t even of age yet. The line goes impressively quiet as he hears a simple, “Hey.”

 

“Hi,” he answers, recognising her voice immediately. “Partying hard, I trust.”

 

She laughs, it’s almost bitter and he remembers her words from in the car not even a full week ago. “Well Clarke’s parents are out of town so you know it.”

 

“Ooh,” Wick winces, nothing worse than a full blown house party. “I don’t think Dr. Griffin will be giving you anymore donuts if you trash her house.”

 

“It’s just the usual gang,” she reassures. He hears a door open and shut on the other end. “How’s work?” It’s a simple enough question but it’s enough to make him smile. There was something so normal in the question. Raven didn’t usually do normal.

 

“Extremely busy, they’re lucky they have me.”

 

“God forbid they have to carry their own things,” she jokes. “So, any New Year’s resolutions?”

 

There are many answers he could offer her. Be braver, bolder, more obvious in his attempts at flirting. Or that he resolved to kiss the girl he’d fallen for. Or that he intended to care about someone as if he’d never lost before. “Maybe clean my apartment once in a while,” he jokes instead. “How about you?”

 

Her silence is much shorter as she admits, “I want to take my test to become a credited mechanic.” There’s determination in her voice, even a sliver of hope buried beneath the words. As though, for the first time, she believes she can do it.

 

“And then?” he asks.

 

“Then what?” He can hear the irritation in her voice. The unspoken, ‘is that not good enough?’ lingering somewhere in her tone.

 

“You have a first rate mind, Raven.” He’d seen her Christmas night, in the living room, her books already cracked open as she answered practise questions and whispered long, involved answers to herself. He’d seen her work, seen that damn rocket she built from scratch and the way she magically got his truck running better than it had ever worked before. “There’s no way you can be content with just that.”

 

For a minute there’s no answer and he’s wondered if she’s hung up. The only indication that she’s on the line at all still is when she clears her throat. “It’s stupid,” she says, quieter than she’d been a minute ago.

 

“What is?” he asks, a little bit lost. “What you want to do?” He wants to tell her the truth, all of the beyond stupid things that he wants but won’t pursue. She needed him, needed someone, too much for him to screw things up with all of his messy wants.

 

The line beeps, indicating there’s another call coming in. He doesn’t care enough to cut her off in order to answer it. If it was important, he figures, they’ll call back. “I want to go to college,” she admits like it’s the most absurd thing in the world. “I want…” a pause, a sigh, the words trapped somewhere between her heart and her brain. “I want to work for NASA. Build rockets for more than just fun maybe.”

 

There isn’t a doubt in his mind as he says, “I know you’d kick NASA’s ass. You’d be the smartest one there.”

 

“Thanks,” she whispers. He knows the moment is over. College for her wasn’t realistic, not when she worked two fulltime jobs just to sustain a livelihood. Not when she had a mother to take care of. “I’ll see you around, Wick.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, ignoring the beeping once again as he says goodbye. “Tell everyone else I said goodbye.”

 

She says she will and hangs up, the line going dead on his end. The sigh is drawn from his lips as he acknowledges for the first time how shitty her situation was. There was no way out, not without sacrificing everything she knew. It wasn’t fair.

 

That doesn’t stop him from getting online and Googling everything he could to figure out NASA’s requirements, funding programs, anything he could think of. Potential like hers shouldn’t be wasted in a trailer park, making ends meet with mediocre jobs. There has to be a chance, he decides. She’s worth too much for there not to be.

 

\--------------------------------------

 

Somehow, a few weeks later, he ends up at another group event. These people whose names he could hardly keep straight welcomed him into their gang without the slightest hesitation. He didn’t know if Monty put in a particularly good word or what. Regardless, he didn’t turn down the invitations.

 

Their night out is more of a night in. It’s mid-January and Clarke (the blonde one, he remembered) was starting back at her next semester of college. She was in nursing school or pre-med or something and apparently her life was ‘going to suck’ in a week. So she needed to enjoy herself while she still could. At least, that’s what she’d said once she was four shots in.

 

Bellamy, who was Octavia’s brother and _not_ interested in Raven, had the house to himself. His and Octavia’s mom had apparently left for the weekend, a frequent occurrence it seemed. They took advantage of the alone time.

 

Miller had brought the booze, though Bellamy hadn’t been happy about it originally, Kyle noticed him drinking a beer as the night went on. Octavia turned the music on and up shortly after he got there, dancing around the house as she put out chips and set up some game or another. It wasn’t anything big. If there was one thing Wick had learnt about these people it was that they stuck to their group. Hence why he was a bit surprised that he’d been invited at all.

 

Jasper shows up late and, shockingly, with a girl. Wick offers a thumbs-up when the boy looks over at him. Now Jasper just needed to not make an ass out of himself. Which meant he should probably stay far away from the punch Monty was making.

 

Making a point to mingle, Wick talks with Lincoln about the hospital for a bit before Octavia calls for him from the kitchen. He helps Bellamy move the coffee table out of the way and introduces himself to Jasper’s…friend? Girlfriend?

 

After a while he’s just nursing a small cup of spiked punch in the corner. He wanted to ask if Raven was coming, he felt it was safe to assume she wasn’t. He’s caught off guard when a relatively drunk Clarke comes over to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Only the height difference is so great that she essentially is just resting her arm on his back, nearly falling forward with the motion. He reaches out an arm to correct her balance. “Are you havin’ fun?” she asks, eyes unfocused as they attempt to make contact with his.

 

He laughs and shakes his head. It’d been a while since he had been around someone this drunk. Since college, in fact. “I am, thanks for inviting me.”

 

“Of course,” Clarke answers, side stepping once as if the room was in motion. “Raven…she likes you.” Clarke nods solemnly, as if she were stating a Bible verse or a law. “She doesn’t like anyone.”

 

At that he chuckles. She might have a tendency to come across that way. “Yes, she does,” he corrects. Even if this might not be a conversation that Clarke will remember, he still felt the need to defend Raven. “She likes all of you guys. That’s why she hangs out with you.”

 

Clarke shakes her head, full motions of back and forth which throw her off balance once again. She crooks a finger, as if to tell him to come closer. He does and she brings her lips close to his ear and half whispers, “Raven _hates_ me.”

 

He pulls back and grips Clarke’s arm. “No, she doesn’t. She’s just not good on the emotional front.”

 

“No, no,” she laughs, like he’d said something funny. “You weren’t here when everything happened. You,” she shoves her index finger into his chest. “You don’t know what happened.” He doesn’t say anything else. Clarke seemed prepared to go on whether or not he tried to stop her. “Finn…she loved Finn _so_ much. And I ruined that. Did you know that, Wicker? I ruined their like, forever long relationship, because I was the other woman. Me!”

 

“Raven doesn’t-“

 

  
“And then I killed him!” She laughs, hysterical, mindless laughter. He looks around for someone else to come and save her from herself but the only other people in the room currently were Jasper and his friend, everyone else had migrated to the kitchen for food. “I mean, I didn’t actually kill him, but I was the one who drove through the red light. I was the one who was driving the car when he got hit. It’s my fault.”

 

He clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He has half the mind to walk away, but he can see the way Clarke is getting worked up. He worries what will happen if he just leaves her. “Raven doesn’t hold it against you, Clarke. She’s sad but she’s not…angry.” It might not even be true, but it was what Clarke needed to hear right now. He was more than happy to just say what she needed to hear. Anything was better than having her fall apart on him.

 

“You don’t get it,” she argues, head shaking and hands trembling. “Her life already sucked and then I went and made it worse. Raven’s life is _shit_ and I screwed it up worse.” The guilt seems exaggerated, past what a normal person might feel for a girl they barely even knew. He couldn’t deny her point, but he could feel sympathy for the weight of what she was carrying. “She hates me for taking him away from her and then she hates me all over again for killing him. She hates all of us! She hates Octavia for going to rehab when she needed her. She hates Bellamy for letting anything happen to his sister. Hell, she even hated Finn. But Finn is dead,” she spits the last word out with animosity, pure hatred in her voice. “He’s dead and you can’t hate the dead. You love them, you pity their loss of life and you crave the good times because they will never happen again.”

 

The conversation seems to have sobered her. Her words were all coherent and steady, her balance swaying less than before. “Lexa agreed. It was all my fault.” That’s when she crumbles, head hanging low and hands clenching into fists. The beginning formation of tears aren’t missed.

 

“Clarke…” he starts to say, but he barely even knows this girl. He knows her purely through the things Raven has told him and this exact conversation. Again he looks up, desperate for someone else. His eyes meet Bellamy’s and he pleads with his eyes for the other man to run some interference.

 

Bellamy doesn’t take more than a second to cross the room to them. “Alright, princess,” he says as he takes in Clarke’s state. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders he directs her away from Wick and toward the stairs. “I think it’s time you lie down for a bit.”

 

“It was my fault,” she whispers into his shoulder, close enough for Wick to catch her words before she’s gone.

 

He lets out a heavy breath and takes a long swig of his drink, more than a little fried after that. He catches Monty’s eye who had been watching the end of the exchange it seems.

 

Octavia comes to stand beside him, patting a hand against his shoulder. “You’ll learn quickly that we’re all fucked up.” she says with a sad smile. “It’s what makes us work together.”

 

She walks away and it hits him harder than expected. Maybe that was why they worked at all. The broken left with no choice but to forge together. It’s a little poetic for his taste, but the beer was starting to sink through to his brain and Clarke’s cries of, ‘it’s my fault’ echo in his mind. Perhaps poetic was okay for tonight.

 

\-------------------------------

 

It was almost midnight and Wick did not expect anyone else to be showing up to this awkward little shindig. Jasper had managed to completely ignore everyone else there as he talked to his girl and Monty sulked an exorbitant amount of time over the matter. Wick had every intention of trying to cheer Monty up, maybe with some science talk or even letting him discuss that new video game he’d been waiting to release for the last month. But when Wick goes to find him he’s pressed up against the fridge, Miller’s mouth connected to his and hands going in every direction.

 

Well then, Wick thinks as he immediately turns to go back where he came from, it would seem Miller had things taken care of the cheering up front of things.

 

Clarke apparently fell asleep upstairs but joined everyone two hours later, still a little tipsy but more emotionally stable at least. Octavia challenges Lincoln to a dance off on some gaming system. And then to about thirty more after he continues to win. A few more people trickled in over the course of a couple of hours. Little did he know that Harper from EVS also had befriended the group. But still, midnight strikes and he’s past overdue for getting home.

 

Before taking his leave, he makes a point to go over and say goodbye to Bellamy. “Is Clarke okay?” he finds himself asking as he glances over to where she sits on the edge of the couch, her eyes bleary but seeming to take in her surroundings.

 

“She’ll be fine,” he answers gruffly, staring at the bottom of his beer bottle. “I think school is stressing her out.”

 

It was an easy way to brush off an issue that seemed a hell of a lot bigger. Then again, maybe Bellamy just didn’t feel like sharing those matters with some guy who barely even knew Clarke. None of it was really even his business to begin with.

 

He’s ready to go track down his coat and say goodbye to whoever would listen when there’s a knock on the door. No one else moves to get it so Harper stands, peaking out a crack. She exchanges words with whoever is there and steps back, holding it open wide.  Raven walks through as though she was right on time and not four hours late. He stops what he’s doing immediately to focus on her. “Hey,” she says when she spots him. Her walk is confident, despite her limp, and he notes the partial smile fixed in place. He also sees the redness of her eyes and her mussed hair.

 

“Hey,” he replies, more than aware of the worry that coats his voice. There were so many questions. How did she get here? Why did she decide midnight was the time to arrive? Why were her eyes bloodshot and glassy?

 

“Raven!” Octavia shouts before he can ask a single thing. She abandons her game, it was a losing battle anyway, and runs over to throw her arms tightly around Raven. She was completely sober, sipping water out of a clear glass all evening in favour of the punch. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She squeezes tight until Raven squirms, protesting the grasp. Wick got the feeling that Raven didn’t tend to come to their get-togethers very often.

 

She opens her mouth as if to reply but then snaps it shut, offering a thin lipped smile instead.

 

“Listen, I have to destroy Lincoln in this game but as soon as I do I’m all yours.” She bites her lip, as if guilty to walk away at all, but Raven offers another smile and a nod and that seems to be all the encouragement she needs. She kisses Raven’s cheek before skipping off, trash talking Lincoln on the way.

 

Raven leans against the wall next to him, silent. “You had no idea they were having a party tonight, did you?” he asks. Not thinking that she’d been excluded. Oh he knew they invited her, but that she’d had no intentions of ever coming and certainly hadn’t been planning to walk in to this.

 

“What gave me away?” she asks. It’s meant to be a joke. The longer he stares the more obviously dishevelled she is. Her voice lacks any joking lilt.

 

The next question is obvious. It’s one he got a thousand times after his parents died, a thousand and one after his sister followed, but then he thought better of it. There was nothing he hated more than that damn question. No point in bringing it back. “You missed some good stuff,” he says instead. It was a little weird. How he was friends with her friends but not exclusively through her. How he found himself being invited whether or not she was involved.

 

“Oh yeah?” she asks, glancing to the drink he holds and then looking away. “Such as?”

 

He debates telling her about Clarke’s melt down, but then he decides this is not the time or place. “Well Jasper brought a girl, shocking I know, and Monty was pouting like a child over it. Octavia almost burned the house down while lighting candles. Bellamy threatened to punch Miller earlier…that’s about it.”

 

“Eventful enough,” she muses. “No one told me they invited you.”

 

“Would’ve gotten here earlier if you knew how great the company was gonna be, eh?” he jabs her lightly with his elbow in joke and the sadness finally breaks as her face splits open in a smile.

 

“Actually I was thinking that I would have avoided it that much more,” she says with a glint in her eye. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

He holds back any further comment, settling on a firm smile and a small piece of gratitude that she was here next to him. Suddenly, he wasn’t quite so eager to leave.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't post last night, things were crazy when I got home last night. Good luck to everyone affected by this massive storm we're getting on the east coast. Stay safe everyone! I hope to spend most of it writing and posting, but in the event I lose power know that's why nothing has been put up.
> 
> Thoughts on the season 3 premiere? I would love to discuss if anyone feels like it!


	23. Just Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven runs away

**Raven’s POV**

It wasn’t often that she ran away anymore. After all, it wasn’t like she had anywhere to go. Her form of running away was work. She was nearly always at one job or another; it was rare that she had the spare time to ever need to go anywhere else. That changes when the heat in their trailer breaks the second week into January.

 

It isn’t the cold that drives her out, though it is literally near freezing constantly. She breaks out the old space heater and uses it the best way possible. Unfortunately that means plugging it into her mom’s room most of the time, trying to keep the woman from freezing to death whenever she was home. Raven bundles up, slipping the red jacket Wick had given her over her Christmas pyjamas and adding three pairs of socks every night.

 

During the day she sat by her mother’s bed, using the light that streamed in through the windows to flip through her study manuals and jot down her answers on a spare notebook. At the rate she was going she could be certified within the month, let alone the year. Most of the time her mother slept. Sometimes she awoke and was vicious. Other times she reached out and mussed Raven’s hair and mused over what a ‘pretty girl’ she was and whispered how much she loved her. It wasn’t often that Raven crawled into bed with her mother anymore, but even she couldn’t deny the request when her mom asks. “Come lay with me, beautiful.”

 

She abandons her studying and goes to lie atop the blankets and sheets, settling beside her mother who looked ever more drained and empty and broken than Raven could ever remember. Her hand reaches out and ghosts across a bruise that was healing beneath her mother’s eye. “When did you get so big?” she asks, waving away Raven’s hand to reach forward and tangle it in her daughter’s hair.

 

 (When you forced me to grow up in order to keep us both alive.)

 

Though it’s ten in the morning and her mom has barely gotten out of bed, Raven knows she’s some degree of drunk. Not to the point where she’s hateful and bitter, but at the mark where she’s content and at peace. It was such a fine line, but Raven couldn’t bring herself to mind when her mother landed in this area of calm. Maybe pills were involved, who knows. She just liked the way there was no yelling or crying or fighting in the moment.

 

“I love you,” her mom says. The words are coated in weakness and easily swallowed by the truth, but Raven clings to them anyway.

 

“I know, mom,” she says, pulling herself closer and laying her head down on her mom’s chest. She was thin and bony and not the least bit comfortable. Raven closes her eyes and lets the too close heartbeat soothe some of her worries. “I know you do.”

 

Again her hands twist in Raven’s hair, she feels small and weak and vulnerable and she wishes she was still at that age where she could cry until her mother got out of bed. She wishes she was still foolish enough to throw a tantrum until she was struck across the cheek. She longs to be small and needy and forcing her mother to get her shit together long enough to feed her child. “I know I’m not always good to you,” she admits, like she heard Raven’s thoughts. “But I did what I could for us, my love.”

 

She sounds near sleep so Raven presses herself in further, encouraging her mom to wrap an arm around her. “You did just fine,” she lies. After all, where was the harm in lying to someone who wasn’t really there?

 

\----------------------------------

 

The whole situation of not having heat wasn’t great, but they’d lived through worse. Raven counts the days down until her next pay check. Her mother would be getting what was left over, after she had ordered the part in order to fix the furnace.

 

She comes home Friday night after working a double at the grocery store. It was an easy job but it had its downfalls. The many hours of standing definitely got to her, even after all this time she hadn’t adjusted like she always told herself she would. The walk home had been cold, but that she had gotten used to by now. In fact, she barely even minded. (She wasn’t lying to herself, really). Her leg ached but the pain was the familiar kind, not the angry type.

 

The first indicator that something wasn’t right is the car that sits out front. A total junker, paint coming off the hood and a dent in the back corner panel. Some cars she knew. They were big warning signs of ‘Don’t come in!’ and she always heeded their warning. The unfamiliar ones caused her to test the waters though. When she was younger she used to have dreams about men coming in to kill her mother, shiny silver guns waving around as they argued about money and drugs and who owed who. Sometimes her dreams ended with a bang and a jolt. Other times they were happy, her twelve year old self would somehow jump into action and save the day. Her subconscious rewarded her with a mother who was so overwhelmed with love for her daughter that she changed all of her ways out of gratitude. Those dreams left her disappointed. Not because it hadn’t happened, but because even young Raven knew there was nothing that would change who her mother was.

 

The door is unlocked when she goes to open it. There are no sounds of fighting so she turns it slowly, walking in with caution. The smoke is thick, reeking of cigarettes. She coughs out of instinct; her lungs had never handled irritants well. Her mom is passed out on the couch, in a position so uncomfortable Raven knows her slumber must be drug or alcohol induced. The man who sits next to her has a pile of cigarettes collected at his feet and one hanging from his mouth.

 

“Hello,” she says as soon as he sees her. She didn’t want to greet him. ‘Get out,’ she thinks. ‘Just leave us alone,’ she fights saying. Nothing good came of the men. Even when they brought food or kind hands instead of malicious ones, they never ended well. It seemed like a waste of time to Raven.

 

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” he asks, eyes unfocused as he scans her up and down. Despite her layers, she feels naked. “Shame you’re fucked up.” He points to her leg and for once she’s grateful for it. Being fucked up occasionally had its advantages. “Your ma here is useless, ya know. Can’t even finish me off before just passing out.”

 

The thought doesn’t make her gag like it used to when she was young. It was just the way things were. “Well why don’t you go home then?” she asks, not caring about manners. She couldn’t shower while the man was there. She couldn’t sleep with him hovering in the living room. Fucked up or not, she didn’t trust what he could do.

 

“I’m supposed to fix ya damn heat.”

 

“By turning the place into firewood?” she asks, stepping on the cigarette he tossed to the ground, still partially lit. Though a long shot, Raven didn’t care for the idea of her house being burnt to the ground because of some douche’s cigarette butt. “That’s an awfully temporary fix, don’t you think?”

 

He growls at her. “You’re a little bitch like your mother, aren’t ya?”

 

Raven shrugs, not invested or threatened enough in the conversation to give this man her full attention. Her stomach growled. She didn’t want to eat while he was here. “What are you waiting for if she’s asleep?” Raven asks, gesturing to her sleeping mother. The odds of her waking before morning were slim.

 

“She owes me,” the man answers, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it. “She always fucking owes me.”

 

“Well we won’t have any more money around here come morning than we do right now.” It was the truth. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d paid off her mother’s debts while the woman wasted away somewhere else. Desperation caused people to do funny things and Raven was more than desperate. She has nothing to offer this time, though. If there’d been any money left over she would have spent it on the heat. “So just get out, will you?”

 

It was stupid but she was tired. Normally she had a sixth sense about these people. Which ones were dangerous, which ones not to wear a tank top in front of, which ones she could shove out of the place with one hand. This guy took her by surprise as he gets off the couch, approaching her with thundering footsteps. It was common for the men with her mother to be intoxicated in their own way. Unfortunately for her, this guy seemed perfectly sober.

 

“I don’t just let people talk to me like that. Especially not little whores like you,” he says, right in her face. “Got it?” She doesn’t answer. He spits in her face, causing her to flinch and step back, her bad leg refusing the action and causing her to trip. She corrects her balance before going down but the man laughs, taking a hand and pushing her back. “Well ain’t you just an easy target?”

 

It’s stupid, her instincts are always getting her into trouble but it was in times like these that she failed to control them. Her fist comes up and she slams it right into the smarmy man’s face.  She wasn’t strong like she used to be, but there was still her fury to give her the power she needed.

 

“You slut!” he shouts, bent forward with a hand cupping his cheek. “I wasn’t even gonna hurt ya and ya had to go and pull this shit?” He grabs her arm in a vice grip. “Little bitch.”

 

She tries to pull her arm free but he only squeezes it that much tighter. For a brief second her eyes falter, looking away from the situation she was currently in and over at her mother. She showed no signs of consciousness. “Get the fuck off me.”

 

He laughs, bitter and sickening. But he then he lets go, slapping her ass and kissing her cheek before turning away. “I don’t screw cripples,” he tells her, as though she’s missing out. “And you ain’t worth another assault charge. So just get the hell outta here.”

 

It was her house. It held her room and her bed and her own damn food. But his tactics had worked exactly as he had probably intended. She was scared. So she zips her jacket back up and swings open the door. For the briefest of seconds she glances back at her mom. She thought of the woman who petted her hair and promised her love. There was no one there right now though, it was an empty body, soul raged away by whatever substance thrummed through her system.

 

Raven didn’t want to be the sort of person who ran away. For once she wished she had somewhere to run to.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Again, her instincts had been stupid. She started walking without thinking of where she was going. Her legs carried her for miles, the wind whipping against her cheeks and her leg protesting like she knew it would. It doesn’t even matter, she decides. She just wanted to wash her face and forget the night had even happened.

 

What happened had been child’s play. Raven had been subjected to far worse, either through observation or with her as a participant. It was the fact that she was left walking away, driven from her own home by such a disgusting man. It was the realisation that he’d be the one in charge of turning her mother on her side if she vomited in her sleep or to help her clean herself if she soiled her underwear in her sleep again.

 

It shouldn’t be a surprise when she ends up outside of Wick’s apartment. Still, over all these years she had never gone to someone. No one but Finn. It almost feels like a betrayal, climbing the stairs to his apartment building and raising her fist to knock on the door. As if she’d just moved on from one saviour to the next. The thing was, she didn’t want a saviour at all. She just wanted somewhere to lay down, maybe a blanket for good measure.

 

After two minutes she knocks again, a little louder this time. She’s not even sure if she wanted him to open the door. At least she’s not sure until he doesn’t. The disappointment runs through her like…

 

For a moment she considers settling herself outside of his door. She could sit and wait, the wall behind her would work just as well as a pillow. But that was too pathetic, too needy. So she goes back outside and she walks some more.

 

This time she considers where she’s going. The obvious choice was Octavia. Her mom never cared about company and Octavia might be one to ask questions, but she was also easily distracted. Bellamy would be the problem. He was perceptive. She hated him for it.

 

The thoughts aren’t worth her time, but that doesn’t stop her from considering Wick. Where he might be at this hour, what he would have done if he had been home, why she cared so much in the first place. It was a circular thought pattern that she was stuck in until she was knocking on the next door. (It was better than the alternative thoughts).

 

The loud music coming from the house was hardly a surprise. That’s who Octavia was, loud and full of life. She didn’t sit still long enough for silence to overtake her. It was such the opposite of Raven that she was drawn to it, eager to soak up some of the energy that Octavia couldn’t seem to help but exude.

 

The surprise rests in the person who opens the door. She was familiar, Harper or something, she’d been around a time or two, a friend of Jasper’s or Monty’s maybe. “Oh…hey, Raven, right?” she asks and Raven doesn’t miss how the girl looks at her leg before identifying her. That’s how she was recognised now. It was pretty fool proof after all.

 

It hits her then, as she stands on Octavia’s porch with her hair a mess from the wind and her jacket zipped over top of her grocery store T-shirt. Tonight was the party. It was the ‘Clarke has to go back to med-school and mildly wants to kill herself so let’s all hang out together while getting mildly drunk in an empty house’ party. Raven had politely declined the original invitation. She’d fulfilled her party requirements for the year on New Year’s Eve. “Yeah,” she says, trying to look around the girl for Octavia, or Bellamy, she wasn’t picky.

 

Harper stands back, holding the door wide and Raven steps through. She starts to pan the room when she spots and fixates on one particular individual. Huh, that must be why he didn’t answer his door. She stands tall now, knowing he’ll be paying attention to her. She tries to walk like her leg didn’t hurt and as if she couldn’t still feel the handprint on her ass or the dried spit on her face.

 

The smile she puts on her face feels fake even to her. “Hey,” she says when she’s halfway to him.

 

“Hey,” he answers back, eyes scanning over her. She wishes she didn’t know he was searching for signs of harm but she knows. God, she _knows._

The words are on her tongue, built up inside her with that reassurance of absolute knowledge being present. She could ask him to leave and she knows he would. She could sit on his couch and listen to him laugh at the television and make her pancakes and the whole world would be set right for a little bit.

 

“Raven!” the cheerful call cuts her off from doing anything other than being violently hugged. Her hug was tight, almost suffocating. There were times when Raven liked the affection, though she might not admit it. There were also times when she needed to breathe. She hopes Octavia doesn’t take it the wrong way when Raven squirms. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says before letting her go.

 

Again, there are words to be said, truths to be revealed. She wants to ask Octavia to talk alone. She wants to lie on the floor under a Hello Kitty blanket and talk about crushes. She wants to dance to Cheetah Girls and laugh at prank calls. Instead she presses her lips together, holding all of the words in. Instead she smiles.

 

Octavia was good at knowing when Raven wasn’t right. She was also good at ignoring it, like Raven wanted. “Listen, I have to destroy Lincoln in this game but as soon as I do I’m all yours.” That was code for, take some time to get yourself together but I’ll be asking you questions shortly here.

 

With a nod of approval Octavia leans forward and kisses her cheek. She might be loud and restless, but she was also gentle in ways so many others forgot to be. The thought might be a little more meaningful if she didn’t immediately start calling Lincoln a ‘chump.’

 

The words are still stuck in her throat so she leans next to Wick wordlessly. He does that thing. The one where he’s watching her with careful eyes and evaluating what to do next. He probably didn’t think she noticed, but she did. “You had no idea they were having a party tonight, did you?”

 

“What gave me away?” she asks, trying not to feel self-conscious about her work shirt or the jacket he’d given her. She had essentially stolen the damn thing, but he didn’t ask for it back. She wasn’t about to offer it either.  

 

The answering silence is eerie. Raven tries her best not to be bothered by it, but conversation normally flowed between them easily. It was uncomfortable for it to be so stilted. “You missed some good stuff,” he tells her. She knows it wasn’t what he was going to say. She knows he fought back his instincts and his questions for her sake. He took one look at her and decided she was too fragile right now for questions. She hated when people saw her as fragile. For months that’s all she ever was. Now she wondered if everyone had been convinced otherwise or if they just acted like it, for her sake.

 

A part of her wants to snap back, anger roiling through her bones, but she knows it’s not anger meant for him. She knows where it really belongs and that the middle of a sort-of party in someone else’s house is hardly the time to take her anger out on him. “Oh, yeah? Such as?” she asks instead, letting him take the conversation.

 

He starts on about her friends and their antics. Jasper bringing a girl, Bellamy almost punching someone, the usual shit. Actually no, Jasper bringing a girl was very far outside of the usual. She was going to have to ask him about that more later. “Eventful enough,” she answers, unwilling to ask questions for further information. There was no room in her for any more information. “No one told me they invited you.” It’s an innocent enough statement, but again she felt the anger. She could have saved herself three extra miles of walking if someone had mentioned he would be here. (Unrighteous anger was the worst kind).

 

“Would’ve gotten here earlier if you knew how great the company was gonna be, eh?” He jokes and she fights rolling her eyes as his elbow pokes her gently.

 

Then she can’t help it, she smiles, the retort falling past her lips without any thought. “Actually I was thinking that I would have avoided it that much more,” she says, shrugging her shoulders in practised nonchalance. “But whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

He watches her with the sort of eyes that burn through layers of protection. It wore down each wall and knocked out every guard, leaving her exposed. Some part of her wants him to see. She wants that same vulnerability that she’d offered Christmas morning, crying in an unfamiliar kitchen because she saw herself in a little boy who had been forgotten. Tonight had made her weak. She had yet to find her strength again. “Long night?” he asks, because of course he fucking knows. He always knows and she always tries to convince herself that he doesn’t.

 

All it takes is the one small question for the exhaustion to slam her down once more. She nods, the lump in her throat effectively keeping her from talking.

 

She hates it when people touch her. She doesn’t ask for Octavia’s hugs or appreciate the way Dr. Griffin places gentle hands on her back. Raven wasn’t someone who sought solace in the form of physical contact. Despite that she doesn’t mind when Wick places a hand on her shoulder, fingers gently curling around and squeezing. She’d been touched so much more, but the gesture still sends fire through her blood and ice down her spine. It opens the gate to the boy with the right words. “Hey, do you want to…” she stops. It wasn’t her place to ask him to go back to his own damn house. She had no right to invite herself in and camp out on his couch once more.

 

But the music was too loud and the lights too bright and the people too great.

 

She wanted Finn. She wanted familiar and safe and home, somewhere and someone with whom she could just exist and worry about nothing else. But he was never going to be that person again. Even before his death, Raven knew it was time to give him up.

 

She wanted Octavia. She wanted two a.m. giggles and happy music and innocence, a person that she could forget her worries with and find happiness through. But Octavia wasn’t the same girl that she’d been when they were younger, and neither was Raven. She was grown and broken in her own ways, a life filled with Lincoln in a way that Raven’s life was once filled with Finn.

 

And dammit, she hated to admit it, but she wanted Wick. Not because he was a last resort, not because Finn was dead or Octavia busy or she desperate. She wanted someone who cared. Someone who knew only the broken her and didn’t mind. He had no expectations for her to be the girl she once was. She wanted him because he just kept coming back even though she didn’t ask him to and even though she tried to send him away.

 

Her eyes are heavy and her body is sore and she wonders if her mother is going to wake up in the morning and if she even wants her to. So she does the things that normal people do when they feel this way. She rubs her eyes and yawns, she stretches her tired arms, and she grabs a hold of Wick’s hand in a vice grip.

 

“You want a lift home?” he asks, all soft words and easy smile. He saw right through her. He probably even knew that she was playing him like a fiddle.

 

But she shakes her head in response because no, she does not want to go home. She was still running away.

 

“Well my couch has been pretty lonely these past few days,” he muses and she watches as he raises the bottle to his lips but brings it back down without taking a drink. Her heart stutters in her chest and she wonders if she should even bother lecturing herself over it. “Maybe you could sleep on it tonight, help make it feel loved.”

 

Raven smiles because he’s stupid but also because he’s so damn smart. He knows what she needs even when she refuses to say it. “Are you sure it’s just the couch who’s lonely?” she teases.

 

The response she expects is snarky and teasing and challenging eyes. Instead what she gets is, “Maybe the couch’s owner could bear to have you around too,” and he’s looking at her with a dopey grin and she remembers that her hand is still wrapped in his when he squeezes it.

 

There aren’t really words to respond with so instead she tugs him towards the door. There was no point in bothering with goodbyes she decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even I'm a little tormented by this chapter. Hooray for still having power! Figured I would upload before that changed.


	24. Help Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick says the right thing

**Wick’s POV**

He doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know why she’s so willing, if not pretty much asking, to go home with him. He has no clue why she’d ended up at the party in the first place or why she kept holding on to his hand. All he knew was that he liked it. He liked being someone to her. He liked how she knew he would pick up on her little hints. He was so pleased that for the first time she’s not just allowing him to do something, she’s asking him.

 

The ride to his place is quiet but short. She watches out the windshield with him and doesn’t say a word. He wants to ask questions but he fights the urge. Tonight wasn’t the time to pressure her for answers. Part of befriending Raven was accepting that some things just weren’t going to be revealed. “Should we have said goodbye?” he asks as an afterthought, thinking aloud just as much as he was asking her. In retrospect, it did seem a bit rude. Then again, Octavia was nowhere to be found and last Wick had seen Bellamy was when he was holding Clarke’s hair as she vomited in the trash can. (She’d gone for round two of drinking and it had a new set of consequences it seemed.)

 

Raven shrugs, pulling her gaze from outside to him. “It’s not like we won’t see them again,” she comments and he finds himself completely lost in the word ‘we.’ Not just him or her, but them as a unit. It was a silly thing to focus on. Perhaps the late hour was just getting to him.

 

He parks closer to the building than he normally does, trying to save her steps without making it obvious. He notices the exaggerated limp in her walk and the way she winces as she climbs the two stairs to his building. The words, ‘are you okay?’ linger on his tongue. Wick knows better than to ask them though. He was lucky he had gotten away with it earlier tonight.

 

But then she’s on the second flight on the way up to his apartment and she stops, leaning on the bannister so heavily he wonders if her legs were taking any weight at all. “I just…” she stops and bites her lip. “I think I walked too much today.” It’s a gentle admission.

 

“Take your time,” he says, unsure if offering help would break their momentary peace or not. “I promise not to _stare_ too long,” he adds, smiling wide at his own joke. “Get it?” he asks when she remains silent.

 

Her watering eyes turn into a hard glare. “That was tragic,” she says, her voice still tight but her body relaxing. “Where did you learn to tell jokes? Same place you learned to engineer, probably.”

 

They’re ruthless jabs but he’s happy to take them. If there was one thing that let him know she’s okay, it’s her ability to still insult him. She pushes off the railing and carefully steps out on her left foot. Her flinch is noticeable but she keeps going anyway. He’s one step behind her, thankfully, when she stumbles. Her good leg crumples under her weight and she doesn’t stand a chance of regaining her balance. He hooks an arm around her waist and pulls her back up as he goes to stand next to her.

 

Throwing her arm around his shoulder and stooping so she can use him to lean on proves useful. He rambles as she continues walking, trying to keep her mind off of the struggle. “And that’s why I think the fluid dynamic shifts are off which means we’ll never get the sort of reaction we need, you know?”

 

It doesn’t really matter if she was listening to a word coming out of his mouth or not. He still waits for her obligatory eye roll and reminder that he was an absolute idiot for even considering such an idea. They reach the front door and her face is red but the look of relief is obvious. He swings the door wide and waits to see if she wants his assistance getting in or not. She moves slowly, but steady enough that he backs off.

 

“You know, that was both the lamest and most interesting party I have ever been to,” he laments as he flips on a light and throws his keys down. The dim glow was enough so she could see where she was going but not enough that she could see the extent of the mess, hopefully.

 

“Sounds about right,” she grumbles as she falls to the couch. “Damn leg,” he hears her whisper.

 

In the kitchen he grabs what he can find to offer as food. Chips and salsa would do for the moment, though he did have hamburger meat in the fridge. If anyone asked him if he had purchased more food for his place just in case Raven stopped by, he would call them a damn fool. Perhaps they were correct, but that wouldn’t change the fact that they were still a damn fool for asking.  


He pours some water and carries the haul into the living room, using his mouth in order to carry the chips. “Classy,” she drawls when he lets the chips drop to the coffee table by opening his mouth.

 

“Anything for you,” he says with a smirk.

 

Her focus is on her leg as she works the brace free. There’s no signs of pain left on her face, only determination as her fingers make quick work. When she’s pulled the last strap free she doesn’t hesitate to throw it to the floor, a few feet away from her. “Hand over the salsa,” she demands, holding out a hand to accept it.

 

He passes it to her with a grumble of, “you could at least say please.” She snags the chips off the coffee table and twists the cap off the salsa. He sits on the floor, her legs hanging from the couch right near him. “We could order something if you want. Chinese maybe?”

 

“Mu Shu Pork, orange chicken, and chow mein noodles,” she answers without missing a beat. Then she flushes red and shoves another chip in her mouth. “But they’re closed anyway.”

 

He looks at the time and realises she’s right. “Another time then,” he promises.

 

In companionable silence they both snack, the crunch of chips and licking clean of fingers the only sound to break apart the quiet. He abandons the chips sooner than her, leaning his head back on the seat of the couch and shutting his eyes. It wasn’t that he was even that tired, just worn. His hand reaches out and rests on the back of the calf of her bad leg. Wick looks up at her, checking for any sign of sensation. She remains intent on her food. He tries not to laugh. But then his hand starts moving, a gentle, squeezing motion up and down her calf, feeling the taut muscles beneath her skin.  He ran his thumb roughly along her hamstrings, rubbing it in a circular motion as he slid his hand up and down.

 

It’s probably almost five minutes after he’s started when she says, “What the hell are you doing?” Immediately he pulls his hand away, like a child caught sneaking a cookie. She reaches out and smacks the back of his head.

 

“Hey!” he protests, batting her hand away. “I was trying to help.” It was the worst of the four letter words but it slips past without him thinking. “When your back is sore from sitting hunched in a chair or your shoulders tight from working out what do people say?” It’s a rhetorical question and she knows it. She just keeps glaring down at him. “Oh, your muscles are tense. You need a massage.”

 

“I haven’t been working out my leg,” she mutters, a scowl fixed on her face.

 

Wick shrugs. “Maybe not in the way we think about working out but to your leg you totally have. So I figured since it always gets so sore when it’s tense like that from overuse…why not try and make the muscles loosen up.”

 

Raven bites her lip, clearly torn between being pissed at him and letting it go. “Well you can’t just touch my partially paralysed limb without asking me, perv.”

 

“Fair enough,” he answers, not bothering to apologise. Instead he just puts his hand to work again. “Can you feel that at all?”

 

Perhaps he deludes himself, but Wick could almost swear he hears disappointment in her voice when she says, “Feel what?”

 

He moves so that her leg dangles over his shoulder and then he uses both hands, rubbing deep into the muscles. Honestly he didn’t know jack shit about massaging but this seemed right enough. He could almost swear he could feel the muscles start to twitch and snap beneath his touch. “Oh,” she says in surprise when his fingers dig in further to her leg. “I can kind of feel it now.”

 

“See?” he persists, his hands working even harder because the look of surprise and shock and _happiness_ on her face when she can feel is the best thing he’s experienced in a while. “This is what happens when you let people help sometimes.”

 

It’s a stupid statement and he’s lucky he doesn’t get hit again for it. All she says is, “I don’t need other people taking care of me.” Her words are rehearsed, nearly robotic. It’s more of a mantra than a proper sentence. There’s no emotions, no conviction even. They’re just words.

 

“Well,” he sighs, using his hands to signal her to move down further on the couch. She does and he sits next to her. He points to her leg to ask if it’s okay for him to pull it up on his lap and she nods, positioning her back against the arm rest so she’s laying out across the couch. “If you don’t want other people taking care of you then you have to take better care of yourself.”

 

“I do,” she mumbles but then she’s looking at her leg and the food on the coffee table and she sighs.

 

“Do you?” he challenges. He knows she’s already doubting her own story. “How far did you walk today?” Raven doesn’t answer, picking at some lint on the edge of his couch instead. “Alright let me figure it out for myself. You got up and walked to work this morning and then you stood there probably all day, right?” She nods once. “Then I bet you walked all the way home and then you walked all the way to Octavia’s which is how far? Five miles?”

 

“Four and a half,” she whispers.

 

Wick just shakes his head in response. “Was I right? Or was there even more?” He knows better than to consider there may be less.

 

She mumbles something under her breath and he leans in asking, ‘huh?’ so she’ll repeat herself. “Here,” she finally says, her voice a bit louder than necessary.

 

“Excuse me?” he asks, his hands momentarily paused in their actions as he tries to figure out what she’s saying.

 

With a heavy sigh she looks up at him and admits, “I came here before going to Octavia’s.”

 

She came here first. That’s the only thought he has. It is the only thing he cares about. It’s the unspoken statement of I wanted you. I trusted you. I was hurt and I looked for you. Maybe he shouldn’t let it get to his head but this girl is in his head in so many different ways already that he knows it’s a lost cause.

 

The hands that massage her falter as he takes in her words, processes them through, and realises what it ultimately meant for her. “But I wasn’t home.” He curses the invite he got tonight and his willingness to go. Everything he needed would have been here if he’d only just waited. “Shit, Raven.” He sighs because it’s so fucked up that she has no other way of contacting him or anyone else unless she goes to where they are. It’s a beyond flawed system.

 

“It’s fine,” she whispers with a shrug. She knows as much as he does that it isn’t fine. Whatever happened tonight had sent her running, Wick knew what it meant when Raven went running. She ran but she didn’t have anywhere to run to when she realised he wasn’t there. He’d let her down in a way so unintentional and so very out of his control. The guilt chewed away at him regardless.

 

“You need a cell phone,” he tells her with a shake of his head and tense conviction in his words.

 

“No,” she cuts him off before he can get started on a tangent. “I can’t…” she fades, sighs, fixes a stare on him that says he already know what she has to say. “That isn’t a priority.”

 

His hand rests on her leg, no more movement just a steady grasp. “What happened tonight?” he asks, attempting to ignore the way fear roils through him and settles in his chest. Maybe if Raven was a different person it would be easy to assume she’d just been seeking friends and companionship and happiness tonight. Because she is who she is, Wick asks the question and braces himself for an answer, terrified of what he might get in response.

 

There’s no immediate reply. It seems the left corner of his living room has drastically increased in its interest to Raven as she fixes her gaze over there and doesn’t budge. “It wasn’t that bad,” she says after several minutes. The words are barely a whisper, an admission so broken and miserable that the words pierce through the moment in time in their quiet.

 

_Wasn’t that bad_ , the words play in his head. Because that meant there had been worse. Anger stirs in him in a way that’s unfamiliar but strong enough that he can’t ignore it. He was the guy who always had a joke tucked away or a comment ready to relieve the tension. Life was a good time to be had, if you asked him. It was too short not to. But not even the most determined parts of him stand a chance of finding the least bit of humour in anything right now. The world seemed dark and broken and so fucked up. It couldn’t have been the universe who brought Raven Reyes to him because he firmly believes if the universe had a say in anything at all, it wouldn’t let Raven suffer as she did.

 

“What the hell does that even mean?” he asks, trying to ignore the way his voice is cracking open.

 

Her teeth bite down on her lip. He sees the moment that she draws blood, her tongue darting out to lick it away. She draws her eyes away from his carpet to him. He expects tears and sadness and a broken stare. Instead she’s all steely gaze and a determined wrinkle to her brow. “It means that I’m fine.” The words are strong, a promise to herself as much as it was to him. “But…it also means I-I wanted someone to remind me that I was. That I’m not…” She swallows heavily, a breath of a laugh falling past her lips in frustration. “I just wanted to not feel alone for a little bit, okay?”

 

And god, she’s been alone for so long. She had struggled through her life for so many years. Her solitude was partially by choice. He knew there were so many people in her corner that would take her in if she only asked. But the choice wasn’t something she entirely had control of. She’d been so broken and worn down; of course she fought to do what she could to protect herself from any more harm.

 

“You’re never alone, Raven,” he tells her. A simple promise that might mean nothing to her but meant everything to him. “I know, okay,” his voice is insistent and needy, because he _needs_ her to understand where he’s coming from and what he’s thinking and just how clearly he gets her. “I know that Finn left you and then he had to go and fucking die on you. And I know that your mom isn’t who she should be towards you and I know that you fight everyone on everything because you’ve never been able to do anything but fight.” His hands clench her leg. There’s no recognition in her eyes. He knows she feels nothing because the world has insisted on being so damn cruel all these years. “But please, stop fighting me.” The words are pathetic and desperate and weak in their pleading.

 

“I don’t know how,” she whispers back, her own words failing her as her voice cracks on the last word. Her eyes close and it’s now that he sees the tears, one slipping its way out before she swipes it away.

 

“Just let me help you,” he pushes down the urgency in his voice, fighting to rein his emotions back in. “Let all of your friends help you.”

 

She looks up at him with red rimmed eyes and a face that is well worn beyond her years. The answers hover in the air between them. _“I’m scared.” “What if I’m left behind again?” “What if I rely on someone to help and they let me fall?”_  He knows what she feels, what she fears. It seems like it should be so easy to fix, mend a broken heart with some stitches and a kiss, but he knows that isn’t how it works. Reforming trust and hope and belief in others was going to be a long journey.

 

She sits forward and reaches out her hand. He takes it without any question or words passing between them. “Wick,” she whispers his name, letting it sit in the atmosphere.

 

“Reyes,” he answers, trying to smile, trying to find some light within all of this dark. Also, he loved her name. He wanted to whisper her name as his lips found their way to hers. He wanted to laugh through the syllables as she ghosted fingers over his ticklish spots. He wanted to shout it out when her body was flush against him, sweaty bodies and unbelievable pleasure coursing through them. Her name was like a prayer and it had been so damn long since he’d had anything to pray.

 

“Will you help me?” she breathes out. There’s fear in her eyes but there’s also the beginnings of a smile forming on her lips. Her brow relaxes as his hand squeezes hers.

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so theoretically I was supposed to be back in school already. However due to all the snow we've gotten here my college has yet to open. So I'm gonna keep writing while I have the chance. Classes already cancelled for tomorrow so I'll upload again then as well :)
> 
> I know this chapter is a little bit on the sappy side for them, but it was a conversation needing to be had if you ask me. Let me know what you guys think!


	25. I'm in Over My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven trusts and it doesn't immediately bite her in the ass.

**Raven’s POV**

There’s some slight Deja vu waking up on Wick’s couch. The sun is still high in the sky, promising her that the entire day hasn’t been slept away this time. There’s a weight on her left hip and a fogginess in her brain. (The one thing she notices there isn’t is a tight pain in her leg. She almost cries in relief that for once she feels like she’s not weighed down by the near constant ache.)

 

She runs a hand down her face and pushes up on her elbows, looking down to find the source of the weight was Wick, folded over and using her less than comfortable hip as a pillow. It wasn’t an unpleasant pressure, she thinks, more like a comforting anchor to hold her where she belonged.

 

The fondness she feels for this stupid boy with his grand ideas and ridiculous jokes is greater than she ever thought she would feel for someone again. It had been forever since the last time her heart swelled with affection for someone. It had been a lifetime since she’d felt a quickening of her pulse and a warming of her skin because of another person. It had been an eternity since she’d had someone look at her like she was not just good enough, but she was a first choice.

 

Out of pure desire and happiness and instinct she reaches out, curling her fingers through his too long hair. It was softer than she’d imagined. The hairs slipped through lose grasp, and she smiles, tangling her hand further into his hair as she lies back down and stairs up at the ceiling.

 

He grunts and stirs, his hot breath against her hip as he snuggles his face against it. Raven wishes she doesn’t love the feel of his stubble on her bare skin or crave the feeling of his nuzzling nose. Closing her eyes, she absorbs every touch and caress, all too aware that soon real life will come crashing back in and she’ll have to let this go. People didn’t touch Raven Reyes. She didn’t let them. And she certainly didn’t ask them to.

 

It’s obvious the minute the smallest form of consciousness returns to Wick. He bolts up, probably realising for the first time that he was nuzzling the exposed skin of her hip and waist. The movement must be painful as he groans, hand reaching up to rub his sore neck. “Damn,” he mutters as he shifts it from side to side.

 

Raven smiles, pulling her body up into a sitting position and stretching her arms up and out. Her legs are still thrown across Wick’s lap and she points the toes of her good leg in a stretch, the bum one lying there useless, as per usual. “You know, this is a pretty decent couch you have here,” she tells him, half expecting a cheeky comment about trying out his bed in return. He must worry about boundaries though as he doesn’t answer.

 

The moment is awkward between them as they both try to regain their footing.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, clearly still half asleep. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

 

She waves him off because she misses the warmth and also because she can’t actually say that. “Don’t worry about it.” That’s as close as she can get to an admission.

 

He nods, looking to the clock under the TV, it was nearly two in the afternoon, and then standing. He walks over to where she threw her brace last night and holds it out to her in offering. “I’ll go find food,” he says whilst she yawns widely.

 

“Wait, Wick,” she stops him when he’s only three steps away. He turns back to face her, eyes still glazed over and posture still loose and sleepy. It makes her lips quirk. “I need to ask you a favour.” They were some of her least favourite words but she remembers their conversation last night and she revels in the absence of pain in her leg. It was worth a shot, this whole concept of letting him help. At least, here in this moment of their own little utopian life that consisted of sleeping on couches and massages.

 

It doesn’t take a genius to recognise the dopey smile on his face or the way his eyes soften as they watch her. She tries not to feel the effects of his gaze but it’s damn near impossible. That look…she didn’t know if anyone had ever given her _that_ look before. “Anything.”

 

It would be so easy for her to turn it into a joke. Saying something ridiculous like, try not to burn the bottom of my pancakes this time or pass me a towel so I can wipe all your damn drool off my hip, but instead she garners her courage. “I need you to take me home,” she says, the words weren’t in the same context as the last time she’d been here. By the end of the night she had felt so stifled as she fought back every hope and dream and fleeting brushes of joy. It was exhausting fighting the good so she needed to escape back to the bad. No part of her was exhausted currently. She was well rested in a way she hadn’t remembered feeling in so long. “I think I need to go check on my mom.”

 

She doesn’t want to label the passing expression on his face as relief, but it’s the only word that comes to mind in that moment. “Of course,” he says with a nod. He runs his hand through his hair and immediately moves to go put his shoes on.

 

“We can eat first, idiot!” she calls after him, securing her brace tightly and trying not to think about his reckless abandon when it comes to her.

 

He offers her a sheepish grin when he walks back over, feet only half in his shoes. His shirt’s still all twisted around his body and the hand he ran through his hair made the situation worse, not better. “Well unless you want to eat hamburgers for breakfast, I suggest we go out.”

 

She laughs because he looks like a six year old who’s stumbled out of bed on a Saturday morning in search of cartoons and because he doesn’t understand that she’ll eat anything at just about any time of day. Hamburgers would be more than sufficient, but that sentence would only make him sad so she holds it back.

 

Pushing herself to her feet she steps out cautiously, walking over to where he stood and taking it upon herself to reach out and tug his shirt so it fit him properly. Then she stands on the tiptoes of her right foot to reach up and muss his hair. “As if I’m going into public with you looking like this.” She tries to joke but has to pull her hand away after a minute. She looks up at him through her eye lashes as she settles back on her flat foot. Though she doesn’t stumble, Wick’s hand reaches out to steady her. “I’m good,” she promises in a whisper.

 

“I know,” he answers in a way that sends her everything out of rhythm. Pulling away she clears her throat, hoping it will equally clear her mind.

 

“Well then you should also know that your breath is abysmal.” He rolls his eyes but she catches him checking it as he walks down the hallway to the bathroom. Running her hands down her face Raven tries to collect herself. Too fast, she thinks as she considers his eyes and his hair and his lips. She wasn’t ready for any of that. She wasn’t looking for someone to love her like that again. She’d been loved once before and it had ended with a crack and a snap. Someone who had been so endlessly dedicated to her just forgot everything they had in favour of making something with someone new.

 

In the past she’d been on the receiving end of loving gazes and gentle touches and the sort of commitment she always thought must be fake. That sort of love had a way of tainting everything. It ended whatever goodness came along with it in favour of further destruction. One can’t feel that strongly without things shifting. ~~~~

“Ready?” he breaks her out of her thoughts as he re-emerges from the bathroom. He stops to blow his breath in her face in teasing and she wrinkles her nose in disgust, though he smells of nothing but mint now. “Are you happy now?”

 

“Please,” she says with a dramatic flourish of her hand as she works to get her foot into her boot. There’s some comment lingering on the tip of her tongue of how his stupidity is the highlight of her day, ready to poke fun of the time that he suggested they shift the fixed engine mount (‘Jesus Christ, Wick, did they not teach you basic vocabulary in that engineering school of yours?’) but the words die off. Because they’re a little too true to be spouting out in jokes first thing in the morning. Instead she bends over to zip up the side of her boot and takes her coat that he offers out.

 

The opening statement dies out. The only words that came to her were either to true or too much of a lie.

 

The cold has become so routine that Raven doesn’t even flinch when they get outside. She hoists herself into the truck with relative ease as he turns the engine over. “Sissy,” she mutters when she sees how he trembles.

 

“Excuse me for having basic physiological reactions, Raven,” he retorts, holding his hands up to the heat vents even though the air blowing out is as cold as the wind outside.

 

“Do you want my coat?” she asks in a mocking pitying voice. He flips her off and throws the car into reverse. She laughs, forgetting her anxieties as he drives towards her home.

 

“You should grab your work clothes while you’re there,” Wick suggests and she tries not to focus on the fact that he knows her schedule without her ever having told him. “That way I can just give you a ride from my place.”

 

A smile finds its way to her face once again, wiped away when he turns into the trailer park. For the first time in what feels like an entire lifetime she cranes her neck, trying to catch a view of where the boy she once loved used to live. She didn’t even know if his parents still lived there. A part of her felt guilty for not keeping in contact. A bigger part of her knew she couldn’t have even if she’d wanted to.

 

She forgets to answer him, her thoughts consumed with what waited for her inside. It was the eternal struggle warring yet again. Hope to see a living, breathing body; fight back the disappointment when you do.

 

Though she doesn’t say for him to, Wick unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs out of the truck, following after her. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes scan the property or how he lingers half a step closer to her than he usually does. Once again, he seemed to know things she hadn’t been able to tell him.

 

It was a familiar pattern, her fast beating heart as she slid the key into the lock, her directionless prayer that if something terrible has happened, she won’t be in the cross hairs. Even the way her hair stands up on the back of her neck is common.

 

With a push that consists of more strength than she has, she opens the door and peers through, head poking into the living room before she swung it all the way open and stepped inside.

 

No one’s lying on the couch; there isn’t a body on the floor. There is, however, still a pile of cigarettes and she hopes Wick doesn’t question how damn cold this place still is. He walks in behind her, his eyes looking around in a completely different way than hers did. She was checking for signs of death just as much as she looked for any semblance of life.

 

His hand rests on her side as the two of them fully enter and she tries to remember that he’s attempting to comfort her, nothing else. He’s smart enough to remove it as she walks further in. The kitchen is in its usual state of disarray. A bottle of Whiskey sits on the counter and a collection of dirty cups sit in the sink. There’s a line of white powder on the table and she tries hard not to consider what Wick is thinking when he sees that.

 

“Wait here,” she tells him, hand wrapping around his wrist for a second before she walks away down the too tight hallway towards her mother’s room. The door is cracked but no light comes through it. Taking a deep breath she looks inside.

 

There’s just a singular small form, huddled beneath the less than sufficient piles of blankets. Raven notes the space heater is off and she isn’t sure if she should be glad that it wasn’t left on to burn this place to the ground or worry about her mother’s state.

 

Raven crosses over to where her mother rests and sits on the edge of the bed, pulling the space heater near and switching it on. Even in the dim light that just manages to break through the curtains, Raven can see the bruise forming on her mother’s cheek. It’s dark and angry and when Raven reaches out to run her fingers over it her mother flinches. A flash of guilt runs through her when she realises that she’d been the one to leave her mother behind with the man who did this. She’d been running away like a child and now her mom was paying the consequences.

 

With careful hands she lifts the blanket, not missing the goosebumps that appear across her mother’s skin from the exposure. She’s naked and Raven doesn’t really know what to make of that. The woman groans as the covers are further removed. Her ribs look like they took a bit of a beating too but Raven doesn’t see any signs of bleeding at least.

 

Moving to her mother’s drawers she opens the ones that hold the warmest pyjamas, getting socks and underwear while she’s at it. “G’off,” her mom mutters as Raven works the under wear around her feet and then does the same with the pants. She inches them up a little bit at a time. Her mom was small, but she was also deadweight at the moment.

 

“Do you need any help?” she hears Wick ask from behind her.

 

She turns in surprise, horrified and embarrassed that he was standing there in the doorway. “Get out!” she shouts and moves to chase him away. He’s already backed up and swung the door closed by the time she gets there. For good measure she swings out her foot and gives it a good kick, as if he might still be standing on the other side and she could scare him off. This wasn’t his business. There had been a reason she’d told him to stay put.

 

Turning back around she finds her mother unmoved from her original position. The rest of the progress is slow and hard, but she finishes. Her muscles burn when she lowers her now dressed mother back into bed and covers her once again. For a brief second Raven considers shedding her jacket and wrapping it around the still shivering woman as well but instead she just pushes the space heater a little bit closer and steps away. She had to go back out in the cold after all.

 

With a deep breath she faces the closed door again, trying to collect her thoughts. Her mom was alive, the wounds she had would heal, Wick wouldn’t judge. She tries to repeat the optimistic mantra a few more times. That doesn’t stop her from giving him her dirtiest glare when she walks out. It might be easier if she couldn’t see his breath each time he exhaled.  

 

“Raven,” he starts and she holds up a hand to cut him off.

 

“Don’t,” she warns as she buries her hands deep in her pockets and make a beeline for the door. “Let’s go eat breakfast.”

 

\-------------------------------------

 

The truck ride is awkward. That doesn’t dissipate when they sit down at their breakfast table at some diner or another.

 

Wick stares too intently at the menu and Raven stares too intently at Wick. “What you saw-“ she starts but he puts the menu down and leans toward her. The words die on her lips.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says and it reminds her of that day in his truck when she’d felt so mortified that she didn’t know if she could ever look him in the eye again. “I’m sorry that’s the way life is for you, but I’m not sitting here judging you for it, okay?” She nods dumbly. There had only been one other person who had ever seen her mom like that. Finn was best at coaxing the woman back into bed when she was too inebriated to do so herself. “Your mom is sick,” he says as if she needed reminding. Dressing her unconscious, naked mother was generally a reminder enough.

 

“I know that,” she bites back at him. She had always known that. Even when she was three years old and being tucked into bed by a stranger or when her stomach went empty for too long or when books were flying across the room instead of the words off the page being whispered to her sweetly. Her whole life she had known that her mother was sick. Her whole life she had been trying to make her better. “She’s still my mom.”

 

“I know,” he parrots back, his words much more gentle than her earlier ones. “I wish that was enough.”

 

He says the words she’s spent years thinking but never breathing to life. Because she already had her answer. It wasn’t enough. And it never would be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay it's official. I return to school tomorrow. It's going to be one of my hardest semesters, and I can definitely say I am not looking forward to it. Leave a comment telling me how I pretty I am to make this suck less. Don't worry I have another twelve chapters already pre-written so the uploads should hopefully remain unaffected. I am going to scroll back to every other day again, though. I hope you all enjoy and I'll see you all on Friday!


	26. I Got a Feeling I Think You Should Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick's life is filled with nothing but Raven and he loves every second.

**Wick’s POV**

It’s one week before February when Newark sees its first proper snow fall. The state is in pure panic and milk and bread are completely sold out three days before the storm is even supposed to hit. The hospital over staffs and sends out emails promising rides from ambulances for anyone who would still come in for their shift. The night before it all starts Wick drives to Raven, waiting for her to come out patiently. Though picking her up wasn’t a usual part of their routine, it was cold and dark and he didn’t really see why it wasn’t. So he figured why the hell not.

 

When she walks out she freezes after spotting his truck. Then he watches her take tentative steps toward him and swing open the door. “I don’t recall asking-“

 

“Too bad,” he cuts her off, giving her his very best shit eating grin. Sometimes he forgets the times when she used to intimidate him with her hard stares and angry words. Now he was used to those moments, always brief and with an undertone of softness just beneath. “Get in, loser.”

 

She doesn’t wait for another invitation as she gets in, slamming the door and buckling her seat belt before he pulls away. “Ready for snow-pocalypse 2k16?” he asks, referencing the actual news broadcast he had seen earlier today. He was more than a little ashamed at everyone’s state of panic.

 

“Oh you know it,” she mumbles and he sees her slouch into that familiar position she always went to in his truck before falling asleep. He stays quiet for the ride in, even turning the radio down in hopes of helping her sleep.

 

Five minutes before their shift he pokes her shoulder. She mumbles a ‘no’ and slouches further against the window. “Come on, sleepy head,” he coaxes. Though, if he were honest with himself, he didn’t want to wake her up any more than she wanted to be woken. “I promise not to tease you on the way home if you get up.”

 

She groans and rubs her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up. “I meant to ask you…” she starts and then stops, biting her lip in what he assumes is contemplation.

 

“Yes?” he prompts.

 

“Never mind,” she says, her energy suddenly recovering as she slips out of the truck in record time.

 

He follows after, turning the car off and pocketing the keys. “You can’t outrun me you know,” he says as he takes a few jogging steps to catch up. He grabs her shoulder, forcing her to swivel around to face him. His hand reaches out to steady her, just in case.

                                                                                                                                                                                

“Wick, it’s cold,” she complains which is the most half assed whine she’s ever offered. As if she wasn’t the least bit used to this.

 

He shakes his head. “I’m not letting you go until you finish your sentence.” He says this as though she couldn’t just shake him off if she wanted.

 

With a sigh and roll of her eyes she says, “Would you mind if I just…stayed at your place for the day?” She mumbles the question down at her feet, peering up at him through her eyelashes a moment later.

 

“Of course not,” he answers like it wasn’t worth a question at all. That’s because it wasn’t. He always wanted her there, but he knew better than to say so.

 

“It’s just my heat has been out for a while now and my mom has the only space heater so technically I should probably go home and make sure she doesn’t burn the house down but…I’m sick of being cold.”

 

His hand falls from her shoulder immediately. Now he felt a bit like an ass for making her stand out here. “I don’t need an explanation,” he says, resisting the urge to throw an arm over her shoulder as they make their way into the hospital. That did explain the coldness he had felt in her trailer the other day. He’d tried to blame it on the door they had left open and the fact that he kept his own apartment plenty toasty. He was convinced there was no way that she actually lived somewhere that cold. “You’re always welcome, Raven.”

 

She doesn’t answer and he wonders if it’s because she can’t. She nods once and offers him this sad excuse for a smile and then she disappears in the opposite direction.

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

Morning comes slowly. He resents the night for each slow passing second it forces on him. The shift had been surprisingly busy, more than four different calls throughout the hours which kept him occupied for the most part. The snow fall started around one in the morning and continued steadily through.

 

Raven looks half asleep at her desk that morning as Jasper rambles on about something so Wick steps in as soon as he walks through the locked doors to admitting. “Come on, Reyes. Save the chit chat for when there isn’t an impending storm of death that we have to drive home in.”

 

Her reaction is delayed, but she turns from Jasper to find him. The light in her eyes is completely gone, replaced with what he assumes is exhaustion. Without hesitation this time he throws an arm around her shoulder and starts leading her towards the door. “See ya, man!” he yells back to Jasper who had probably just been cut off midsentence. Oh well, he would live.

 

“When did you get so touchy feely?” she complains as they walk outside. Her next words die on her lips though as the wind picks up and the snowflakes swirl all around them. The moment would be a bit more magical if they weren’t both about to freeze.

 

Wick pretends not to notice the way she curls in further against his embrace. “Do you want to stop at your house?” he offers. It wasn’t ideal in the snow but he wouldn’t begrudge her if she did. “Check on your mom and get some clothes to change into and stuff?”

 

“The roads look bad,” she muses, pulling her jacket tighter around her body. Maybe he should be upset that she essentially stole it, but really he was just happy that she had. It’s not like it was serving much of a purpose otherwise. “If she burns the trailer down then that’s her own problem.”

 

He doesn’t miss the bitterness in her tone. It’d be easy to argue with her but he decides against it. In all honesty, he wasn’t looking forward to driving in this anyway. Once again he’s grateful that he lives within relatively close distance to the hospital. “If you’re sure…” She doesn’t comment one way or another as they reach his truck.

 

Wick starts it up and lets it run, the engine complaining about the weather almost as loudly as everyone else. “If you order a few parts,” Raven says, her hands reaching up and pulling the ponytail from her hair. “I could probably get this thing running even better.” The way she says it is almost mischievous, a wild look in her eyes that had been so dull and lifeless minutes sooner.

 

But her statement makes him think of something else entirely and he asks, “Why don’t you just fix your heat? That sounds like something you could easily do.”

 

“I’m waiting on the part I need,” she sighs and he wonders if that means she’s ordered it and is waiting for it come in or if she’s waiting to be able to buy the part at all. It bothers him that his thought process immediately jumps there.

 

She plays with the radio the whole way home and he has to make a conscious effort not to get distracted by her singing while he attempts to drive through the less than ideal streets. To her credit, she doesn’t once lecture his driving, even when the truck slides too far forward at a red light or if he drifts over too far on a turn. She doesn’t even look scared.

 

 Once they reach the apartment Wick puts an exorbitant amount of effort not to wrap his arm around her again and help lead her inside. The sidewalks sucked and were completely covered in ice and snow. Of course, since he’s spending so much time worrying about Raven tripping and falling, he’s the one to go down. She laughs at him for a solid minute before so much as offering a hand to help him up. He considers pulling her down but then he takes note of the purple under her fingernails and decides flirting in the snow could wait for some other time.

 

Inside she strips her jacket along the back of his couch and sits down to work on getting her shoes off. “Do you know how long this is supposed to keep up?” she asks, gesturing out the window.

 

He wonders if she’s worried about her mom and suddenly regrets not being a little more insistent on taking her to check in. “I think till like noon or something? We can stop by your place before I take you back to work tonight.” She looks up at him but must decide against saying anything. Instead she just nods, a yawn falling past her lips. “Why don’t you take my bed?” he offers. “I don’t have to go back in tonight so I think I’m gonna stay up anyway.” It’s the truth for the most part. If she weren’t here he’d probably sleep but since she is, he’s more than happy to give it up.

 

She seems to hesitate but then nods, “Yeah, sure,” and gets up from the couch. He knows she’s tired because she doesn’t bother with any arguments or smart ass comments before wandering down the hall to his room and offering a, “Night, Wick,” as she shuts the door behind her.

 

\--------------------------

 

The phone rings shortly after the sun has set. Wick had managed to pass out sometime prior, a pencil still in his hand with his head lolled back against the couch. He clears his throat in an attempt to sound more awake as he mumbles, “Hello?” into the receiver.

 

After he hangs up he stares blankly across the room for a moment, trying to pull himself out of the pit of exhaustion that he’d been in. Poking his head into his room he finds Raven still asleep. She laid on her stomach, the pillow half falling out of the bed, and snoring quietly.

 

Maybe it was selfish to wake her up, but he was bored. Besides, they had time to sleep later. “Reyes,” he whispers, a finger running down her exposed arm. She shivers at the contact and pulls it away. “Raven, wake up. I have good news.” His voice rests somewhere between normal volume and a whisper.

 

She turns, burying her face directly in the pillow, and lets out a groan. “Good news can wait,” she complains. Her stomach growls then and Wick can’t help the smile that crosses his face.

 

“Maybe good news can wait but it would seem your stomach doesn’t want to.” He reaches forward and pokes her side. This results in a light shriek from Raven along with her hand blindly smacking around in his direction. “Ticklish?” he asks, forgetting about boundaries and lines for once. After all, she’s the one in his bed. Surely lines were blurring now more than ever.

 

With a forceful movement she turns to face him, fire in her eyes. “Do that again and see where it gets you.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but he laughs all the same. She tries to keep her stare hard though it doesn’t take long for her features to soften. “What exactly was so important that you had to wake me up?” Her voice still plays with irritation but he knows that she isn’t mad anymore.

 

“To bring you good tidings of great joy,” he jokes and she stares at him like he has three heads. Clearly someone hadn’t been forced to attend the Christmas service at church every damn year. “Delaware is in a state of emergency. Work is making Jasper stay which means you’re off the hook.”

 

“Oh,” she says, her brows furrowing and her eyes bouncing back and forth in thought.

 

“What’s wrong?” At no point had he considered that she might think of this as bad. Maybe she hadn’t thought she would be stuck here with him for a whole night, maybe she wanted an out.

 

Raven bites at her lip before admitting,” Well that’s twelve hours of pay I won’t see in my check.” Oh, he finally realises.  A shift that was cut from him might mean he couldn’t eat out for every meal in a week. For her it meant something very different it seemed. “It’s fine,” she says with a shake of her head, pushing herself into a sitting position and letting her bare legs hang from the bed. Wick tries not to stare. He fails. “I’ll just take a shift from Jasper. It’ll work out.”

 

It appears she talks to herself more than him. It’s when she moves to get her brace, nearly falling off the bed in her reach, that he’s pulled back to reality. He grabs it and offers it to her. She snatches it from his hand with a bit more force than necessary. When he goes to back away her hand grabs his wrist. “Could I…could you help me to the bathroom actually? A shower would be nice.” She sets the brace back down on the floor and he doesn’t blame her with not wanting to deal with taking that thing on and off for a shower.

 

Answering her would be easier if his throat hadn’t run dry. So he settles for nodding as a response. She lowers her feet to the ground and stands, fully supported on her good leg. Wick wonders if she knows she’s in nothing more than his boxers, which it would seem she helped herself to, and her thin shirt. He swallows heavily, still crouched in front of her. His eyes travel up her body, stalling on a few different areas. There are angry red spots all up and down her bad leg, open gashes that look bloodied and painful, but his eyes stop there for only a second before appreciating many other sights. She’s staring down at him with an amused stare and the beginning of a smile.

 

He clears his throat and stands, trying to remind little Wick that now was not the time to make an intruding appearance. “What’s easiest for you?” he asks, his eyes fixed on her lips even as he speaks.

 

She throws an arm around his shoulder and he follows her signals. When she takes a step on her bad leg he wraps his arm a little tighter around her waist and she pushes down heavily against him. In all actuality he’s half carrying her, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. They reach the bathroom and he’s impressed with how she gets around after she disentangles herself from him. She uses the counter as leverage to help her move and sits on the edge of the tub to turn on the water.

 

“Need any more help?” he asks, eyebrows waggling and grin forming. “I’ll have you know that I am an _excellent_ connoisseur when it comes to bathing needs.”

 

She rolls her eyes and stands so she can shove her hands against his chest, out of the bathroom. “I’ve got it from here, Wick.”

 

He stands outside the shut bathroom door, smile in place and heart a little fuller than usual. He walks away when the water starts running and tries not to think about her for the next twenty minutes.

 

\------------------------------------

 

“Wick!” he hears when he’s halfway through staring into a pot of boiling pasta. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to make it…just that he didn’t know how to tell it was done. He knew you could throw spaghetti against the wall…did that translate to macaroni? He is more than grateful to abandon his task to answer Raven.

 

Though her call hadn’t been the least bit distressed he moves quickly anyway. “We didn’t think this through,” she announces when he rounds the corner. A towel is wrapped around her body, her hair hanging in wet strings around her shoulders. He hadn’t realised how long it was until now, seeing how it falls nearly halfway down her back. With a laugh he moves to help her from where she stands, leaning against the counter.

 

Again with a bit of teamwork and a significant amount of trust on Raven’s part he helps her make her way back to the bedroom. He helps her sit on the bed, his eyes scanning down to her legs again. “Wait here,” he says as he moves to leave the room.

 

“Good thing you said that, I was just getting ready to run a marathon!” she shouts after him. When he comes back with a tube of Neosporin and a box of bandaids in his hands she looks at him like he’s grown a third head. “What the hell are you about to do?”

 

For the second time tonight he crouches in front of her and uncaps the Neosporin. “Pretty sure it shouldn’t look like this,” is all he says as he moves to dab the gel on her wounds. Her legs are still warm from the water and droplets run down them, his hands quickly getting coated in the moisture. He almost apologises for how cold it probably is, but then he remembers how unnecessary that would be. “So,” he starts, keeping his eyes on what he’s doing and not on her face. He had a pretty good feeling that she hated him for this right about now. “How do you get around at home?”

 

The toes of her good foot poke into his arm and he waves them off. She wiggles them next to his ear and he stops what he’s doing to shoot her a look. The irritation is completely faked. He was too busy revelling in her kid like tendencies. “Crutches,” she answers. He hears her sharp intake of breath when he swipes a line of gel just above her knee where the end of her brace usually rested.

 

“Can you feel that?” he asks, his voice more than a little surprised. Hope tinges it in a way he hadn’t expected. Raven nods. Wick spends more time than needed covering that particular spot. “Maybe you should leave your brace off for tonight. Lest you ruin all my hard work.”

 

For whatever reason, that’s the moment she closes off again. She pulls her brace from the floor and tightens her hold on the towel that covered her. “Let me get dressed,” she says, her voice harder than he had remembered it being in days.

 

“Yeah,” he nods, standing and taking a step back from her. It was easy to tell when something was too far. It was harder to know which thing specifically would set her off. “I’ll make food.” If things weren’t quite so tense he’s sure she’d make a joke about the empty promise he’d just offered and how she would look forward to the take out. Instead she’s silent as he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

 

It sometimes felt almost like a game. This tug and war between just enough and too far. The hardest part was that he had no trouble at all crossing the middle and living in the happy bliss of Too Far Land forevermore. She didn’t seem quite so gung ho at the idea.

 

Giving up on the idea of pasta, Wick works on scraping the burnt pieces of macaroni from the bottom of the pot while a pizza begins to cook in the oven. At some point she must have come out and made it to the living room because out of nowhere he hears a demanding, “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

 

With tenuous steps he walks out of the kitchen, pot and spoon still in hand. She looks to him with an eyebrow raised and then just shakes her head. He walks around to peer over her shoulder at what she’s holding and she moves the paper away from the water dripping off the pot. “That? I drew it up while you were sleeping.” It was another half assed plan, one he was sure she’d probably comment about eating and shitting back out later so it could resemble its true form once and for all.

 

“This…Wick, this could work.”

 

“Wait really?” He leans in further, trying to see just where his brilliance had occurred.

 

With a sigh she pulls it away again from him. “It’d be good if you didn’t ruin the only half decent thing you’ve managed to make,” she mutters and that’s what lets him knows for once and for all that things were back to normal with them again. “What the fuck did you even do?”

 

She cranes her neck to peer into the pot and he pulls it away before she gets a chance to see. “Just some mild burning, it could happen to anyone.”

 

“Uh-huh.” For whatever reason he gets the idea that she doesn’t buy his statement.

 

“Shut up, pizza is in the oven.” Her laughs follow him through to the kitchen. A part of him tries to fight off the thought that it was something he could get used to. (That part fails.)

 

\-------------------------------------------

 

He passes out in between games of Uno. She’d unearthed the pack of cards and had forced him through about ten different rounds while the two of them sipped on hot chocolate. At some point she gets up for something or other and he uses his arms as a pillow to lie on the table.

 

“C’mon,” he hears after what feels like mere seconds. “You’re going to have a killer kink in your neck if you sleep like that all night.” She gives him a shove and he thinks about reminding her how much nicer he was when he woke her up. He also thinks about all the different kind of kinks he could think of that were better than just necks but some part of his filter must still be functioning because he resists.

 

She tugs on his hand and, just like with everything else involving Raven Reyes, he gives in. There’s giggling as he halfway drapes his body over hers as she leads him to his room and then she practically shoves him off onto the bed. “Such a baby,” she whispers.

 

He grabs for her wrist before she walks around, awake enough to know she’d probably hate him for this but too tired to care. “Don’t you want to sleep too?” he asks. They’d shared a bed in the past after all.

 

“I slept all day, Wick,” she reminds him though she doesn’t shake his grasp off.

 

He’s definitely awake enough to know better than to say, “But it’s so much nicer to sleep next to me,” but somehow that doesn’t stop him. “Come on, Reyes, you know you want to.”

 

If he was more awake he would definitely be analysing her reactions right now. Unfortunately he’s too tired to make proper use of this time to figure out how she felt about this. For sure he thinks she’s left as he rolls into the pillows, his hands finding the hem of his shirt to pull it off.

 

“Whoa there,” she says, reaching over to stop him. “Don’t push it.” That does get him to open his eyes and watch her slide into bed next to him and unhook her brace. If he wasn’t so tired he might try and utilize this situation a little more to his advantage, but instead he just settles down and closes his eyes. He can feel her presence hovering beside him and his breath is caught in his throat as she grabs his hand beneath the blankets, just like Christmas night all over again. “Night, Wick,” she whispers and he’s awake enough to notice how her voice isn’t tired and to appreciate the fact that she was there with him anyway.

 

“Night, Raven,” he answers, happiness spilling over at just the ability to speak those words. He doesn't dwell on it, just lets the happiness pull him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, he's such a sap.
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who wished me luck back at school! I didn't actually expect all of those encouragements and they were really lovely to get! You all are so lovely :)
> 
> Also I know this one was a bit long winded and not necessarily with any exact direction, but I was just having fun writing the two of them existing. And I totally wrote this before my own personal snowstorm. I was surprised when I opened it tonight to edit and saw that in there. I forgot I wrote it! Past me was completely right though, that's how things panned out almost exactly so yay for accuracy. Have a great weekend everyone!


	27. The Harsh Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven shows the sort of support she won't let herself receive.

**Raven’s POV**

“Thursday nights are under appreciated,” Octavia muses as she sits across from Raven in a booth. She had insisted, the hands clasped-pouty lipped-pleading voice sort of insisting, that Raven let her take her out for her birthday. Although that was nearly a full two months away, Raven doesn’t bring that up in fear of upsetting her. She consented to get Octavia to stop her whining which, in retrospect, she realises this is how Octavia gets her to do just about anything these days. She makes a mental note to invite Octavia out for something next. It was no wonder she didn’t talk to her too often, she probably felt unwanted.

 

Raven was already scheduled to work all weekend so she had told Octavia it was Thursday night or not at all. Originally she had complained about school, but she seemed content now that they were there. “Good thing we have the opportunity to embrace it,” Raven muses as she scans over the menu.

 

She wasn’t comfortable with ordering food and making someone else pay for it, not anymore, Octavia had been very clear on what was going to happen this evening. (“You are an adult now and adults let their friends buy them dinner without throwing a temper tantrum.” Raven had fought back a response on how real adults can afford their own food.)

 

“So,” O says as she flips through the pages of the menu. Raven can tell by the glint in her eye that she’s about to rile her up. “How’s Wick?”

 

Of course. The question wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t leave Raven with a face that felt like it was on fire and some minor heart palpitations. “A pain in the ass as usual.”

 

The knowing smile she gets in return for her comment only frustrates Raven further. “Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t totally have the hots for him.”

 

Raven laughs despite herself. “I thought this was an adult dinner between two adults?” she challenges.

 

Now Octavia rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, what I meant was surely you cannot dispute that your undeniable fondness for this kind gentleman is irrefutable, and that you would not be opposed to pursuing sexual intercourse.” She falls apart at the end, giggling into her soda as she attempted to take a sip.

 

“Does a British accent make you more adult?” Raven inquires, making fun of the strange lilt her voice had picked up.

 

“Indubitably,” she answers in something that sounds more New Zealand than anything else. “Seriously though, give me something here.”

 

Discussing her relationships had never been a strong point in Raven’s life. It wasn’t like she’d had a mom who cared to hear about the boys she liked, which had consisted of Finn, or helped her get ready for her first date or anything. It felt weird discussing things that were so personal she had a hard enough time admitting them to herself. Not that she was in a relationship with Wick. ”He’s-I mean, we are…I” Damn it, now she was all flustered. “Ugh he’s good.”

 

The knowing smile she gets in response makes her want to punch Octavia in the face, just a little bit. “Good in bed?”

 

Raven glowers at her. “Get you mind out of the gutter,” she says but she laughs anyway. “Wick and I are just friends.”

 

“But you want to be more than friends.” It isn’t a question.

 

For Raven it is. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. “I want things to stay as easy between us as they have been.” It’s the most truth she can conjure.

 

“Tell me something,” Octavia says, reaching out to stir her drink absentmindedly with her straw. “When you’re around Wick, when are things the hardest?”

 

Raven swallows hard because she knows Octavia is already aware of the answer. “When he’s being stupid.” Lie.

 

“Just because you love him doesn’t mean he’ll leave you too.” Raven hates her for knowing exactly what she won’t admit to herself. Raven hates herself because she feels a swelling behind her eyes and a quivering in her stomach.

 

“How do you know?” she asks quietly, the sounds of the restaurant felt like an intrusion against all of the noise in her brain. Everything was still a question; nothing had yet to find a proper answer. Her mind was scrambling to find reasons and facts and safety.

 

When Octavia smiles it silences some of the panic alarms, reminding her that this girl had been one of her best friends for years and that she could see through lies and half-truths and that she wanted the best for her, even if Raven didn’t work towards it for herself. “Because,” she says with a shrug, handing digging into the bread basket that was set in front of them. “You’re due for some happiness.”

 

\------------------------------------

 

When Octavia invites her back to her house, (“It’s empty, we’ll have the place to ourselves until Bell gets home from work,”) Raven accepts without a fight in order to try and maintain the resolution she’d made at dinner tonight.

 

They moan about their delicious food and too full stomachs as they immediately crash to the floor when they walk inside. Octavia turns on some music and the two of them enjoy it without talking, too full and tired to do anything else.

 

Octavia grows uncharacteristically silent, no longer lamenting on the state of internal organs and not even singing along with the music. After some time passes, Raven props herself up on her elbows and stares at the other girl who’s eyes remained fixed, unmoving, on the ceiling. “Raven,” she says, feeling eyes on her.

 

“Yeah?” she asks, gaze fixed on Octavia who takes a deep breath and squeezes her eyes shut as she slowly lets it out. She pushes herself up, crossing her legs beneath her as she sits up. “Is everything okay?”

 

The mood is tense in a way she wasn’t used to in the Blake household. Raven waits with Taylor Swift playing in the background, a stutter in her heart. She worried of what Octavia had to say. The last time there had been this sort of strain between them had been before Octavia left. Raven worries the same problems had come back to haunt her once more. “I’m pregnant.”

 

Words leave her faster than a thought can be formed. A string of curse words fall from her lips, unbidden. There had been a handful of things Raven had been expecting her friend to say, and _that_ was not one of them. “Octavia…”

 

“I know!” she yells, tears forming in her eyes as she draws her knees to her chest and rests her chin on them.

 

“Does Bell know?” He’s going to lose his mind when he finds out, Raven knows it. He’ll probably kill Lincoln with his bare hands.

 

Octavia shakes her head, burying it in her knees and letting out a shaky sob. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Raven.”

 

The admission is the truth. Raven has no solution. She scoots over to where Octavia sits, wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulder in comfort and rubbing a hand along her back. It reminded her of the way that Abby often tried to comfort her, with gentle touches and reassuring pats. “Did you tell Lincoln?”

 

“No,” she answers in a muffled voice. “I just found out yesterday.”

 

Raven knew what it was like to carry the weight of a secret for too long. One day could feel like an eternity when you hold something of that capacity all to yourself. “Shit,” she says for the third time.

 

“I know!” she shouts again, lifting her head to meet Raven’s eyes. “I screwed up again, okay? I know I did.” Her tears aren’t shed, shining brightly in her eyes as she hiccups a sob.

 

“It’s okay,” Raven says in an effort of comfort. It wasn’t, not really, this was the sort of thing that couldn’t ever really be okay. At least not for a very long while, but sometimes Raven knew things needed to be said for the sake of making someone feel better. Now was one of those times. “It’ll be okay, O.”

 

That’s what cracks her open. She dissolves into a puddle of tears and a series of broken, angry cries. “What am I gonna do?” she asks again, turning to Raven and looking at her with a tear streaked, snotty face. “Tell me what to do.”

 

It would almost be laughable someone asking _her,_ train wreck Raven Reyes, for important life advice. But the world is still spinning a little bit too fast and the reality of the moment is a little bit too real for her to find any true humour in the situation. “You know I can’t do that,” she whispers. With a bit of effort she pushes herself off of the floor and goes to the bathroom, stealing the roll of toilet paper and offering it to Octavia. She takes it without a word.

 

“What would you do?” she asks as she wipes her eyes which don’t seem to stop. As soon as she wipes some of the tears away, more come.

 

Raven falls onto the couch and Octavia follows her up there, tucking her legs under her and watching Raven like a hawk in anticipation. “If I was pregnant?” she asks, having more than a little difficulty with the concept. “Fuck if I know.” She did know though. It seemed like the wrong answer for right now, but the answer was so simple. She couldn’t sustain her own life, let alone someone else’s. Abortion would be the only answer. No part of her could ever be a mother. She was too broken, too ruined in so many different ways.

 

Octavia though, Octavia was whole. She was able to love so deeply still. She was capable of so many things and had proved how strong she was no more so than in recent years. “You do whatever you need to do. I can’t tell you what that is though.”

 

She sniffles, taking another wad of toilet paper and loudly blowing her nose into it. “I fucked up, Raven.” Again she reaches out her arm, encouraging Octavia to fall against her. She does without hesitation, laying her head on her chest and releasing another tiny sob. “Will you be there when I tell Bellamy?” Her voice is small, scared and broken. Her big brother loved her more than the stars loved the sky. He was fiercely protective of his baby sister and he’d suffered because of it. But Octavia was her own person. It was something Raven knew he struggled with at times.

 

“Sure,” she agrees, only somewhat regrettably. Bellamy didn’t scare her. “You just tell me when you’re ready.”

 

They sit in silence like that for a long time. Raven’s leg aches from how she has it positioned hanging off the couch, but she doesn’t move it, afraid that if she shifts she’ll ruin the moment between them. The silence wraps them up and holds them together for what feels like hours.

 

“Raven,” Octavia eventually whispers in a croak.

 

“Hm?” she asks, her head resting back on the couch and her eyes slipping shut despite the pain in her leg.

 

She clears her throat and pulls herself out from Raven’s arms. Her eyes are still puffy when they make eye contact, but aside from that her meltdown has left no signs. “I think I want to keep the baby.”

 

“See?” Raven asks as she grabs her friend’s hand and squeezes. “I told you that you knew what to do.”

 

Octavia bites her lip but a small smile forms anyway. “I love you,” she says with the sort of honesty that Raven forgot existed.

 

The words were foreign; she tried not to recoil from them in an attempt to protect herself. There had once been a time where she had heard those words whispered every night before she fell asleep, through the phone every time she answered it, in the middle of the day when she had been worn thin. She didn’t realise how much she missed them until she heard them again. She swallows her fear, trying to smile as she repeats the truth back. “I love you, too.” Her heart feels lighter.

 

\------------------------------------

 

It’s on a late Monday night, or technically a very early Tuesday morning when Raven spills the truth, unable to take it any longer. Octavia kept promising to tell Lincoln and then chickening out. At this rate the kid would be twelve before they ever sat down to talk to Bellamy.

 

Wick’s halfway under the rocket, rearranging something that she has already told him isn’t going to work. “Pass me that wrench,” he says from beneath it.

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she teases as she walks over and retrieves the tool.

 

“Pass me that wrench, Wrench Monkey.” She stops dead in her tracks and puts her hands on her hips.

 

“You did _not_ just call me that,” she says as she stares down at him.

 

He rolls out from underneath to look up at her, stupid smile in place. “You know I was just being stupid at first-”

 

“As per usual,” she mumbles under her breath.

 

 “But I kind of like it.”

 

“Don’t even think about it,” she attempts to threaten with a rough voice and a hard stare. Unfortunately for her, Wick no longer finds her the least bit menacing. He just grins his stupid smile up at her and she rolls her eyes, setting the wrench down with a bit of force on his chest. “I hate you.”

 

“No you don’t!” he shouts as he wheels back under. Then he starts rambling, she thinks he’s talking about pressure gauges and fuel chambers but she blocks him out. Though it wasn’t necessarily _her_ problem, Octavia had been on her mind ever since Thursday night. She couldn’t help question what the hell she was going to do. Babies were expensive. And fragile. And over all pretty much just terrifying. She wasn’t involved in the slightest and she was still scared.

 

“So,” she opens, unable to not talk about it and also knowing that Wick will happily delve into the details of this whole disaster with her. Plus, he was far enough removed from the group that she didn’t have to worry about him saying something he shouldn’t to someone he shouldn’t (Bellamy. The person he should not tell was definitely Bellamy). “Care for some gossip?”

 

She sits on the floor, legs stretched out in front of her, and rests her back against the wall. “Always,” he answers with a slightly eager voice. She smiles, Wick generally cared more about the group drama than she did.

 

“Octavia is pregnant.” She hears a clunk and an ‘ow’ and tries not to laugh as Wick wheels himself out again.

 

“Holy fuck,” he says and she nods, that had pretty much been her response at first too. They seemed to be on the same track in that respect. Wick shakes his head and says, “Bellamy is going to _kill_ Lincoln.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Like the fact that Lincoln is some giant mountain man who can carry the weight of a small village on his shoulder is completely void because Bellamy is going to kill him with pure determination and blind hatred.”

 

She laughs, because sometimes he says things that are so ridiculous and over the last couple months Raven has found that she kind of likes how ridiculous he is. “You’re right.”

 

Then he blows out a heavy breath and the weight of the situation must finally hit him because he says, “What the hell is she going to do?”

 

Raven shrugs, she felt like she knew but she also didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Octavia had been spent the rest of their Thursday night alone going back and forth and worrying herself sick as she tried to think of what the right thing to do for _everyone_ would be. “I don’t think she knows for sure yet.”

 

With another sigh he goes back to work, the sounds of tinkering filling in the silence. “What do you think she’ll do?” he asks and Raven wonders if he’s judging Octavia. For a second she feels guilty for telling him, especially since she’d been the only one trusted with this information to begin with.

 

“She can do whatever she thinks is best,” Raven says, getting defensive. “It’s totally her choice after all. And besides, it’s not like we know the ramifications for her health or school or her finances and-“

 

“Whoa there, Wrench Monkey,” he says, rolling out to look at her once again. She stops if for no other reason than to glare at him for that name again. “No judgement, just genuine speculation.”

 

“Oh,” she says feeling a bit stupid but also a lot relieved all at once. “Well in that case, I think she’ll keep it.” As much as the idea of babies terrified _her_ to no ends she could also totally see Octavia being the perfect amount of scared. Octavia had dealt with a distant mother in a completely different way than Raven ever had. She became stronger from it, more determined to love as fully and deeply as she could. She would become a mother who loved her child without the least bit of falter. Maybe that would be nine months from now and maybe nine years, but Raven could see it already.

 

“Why?” he asks and she reminds herself once more that he’s not judging her or her answers or even her friend for that matter. He was just the sort of guy who asked questions. He curses and she hears something snap. She takes a deep breath to keep from yelling at him.

 

“If you could not destroy several months of hard work that would be great,” she does tease but there isn’t anger in her voice. She hadn’t realised before now how much there used to be until it was gone. “But I don’t know, I guess…maybe because Octavia grew up in a house where things weren’t always very good and her mom didn’t always love her like she should. I think Octavia wants to love someone like she should have been loved. I think she wants the family she never had.” During the pause she considers her words and adds on, “Maybe not at eighteen, but I can’t imagine her giving up something she’s always wanted, even if it is shitty timing.”

 

The answer must be good enough for him as he doesn’t say anything back for a while.

 

“What about you?” he asks after several minutes. The question lingers in heavy silence as Raven tries to decipher what he’s asking.

 

“What _about_ me?”

 

“Not to get super personal,” he says even though he totally is. “But do you think about kids that way? Like a…redo almost?”

 

“No,” she answers without hesitation. She considers the question after answering, thinking about a little boy or girl looking at her like she had the power to save anyone, or stop anything, or fix every problem. She thinks about tiny hands holding hers as they cross the street and spit covered kisses. But then she thinks about the idea about being someone’s _everything_ even if it was for a short time. About having someone rely on her for whatever they want or need or crave. She thinks about disappointments and accidents and illness. She thinks of the worst and for a brief second she considers the best. So when he appears in front of her again, his look questioning and his eyes sad for her, she shakes her head resolutely. “I’m not meant for the whole mom business.”

 

“How would you know?” he asks and she sees the way he tries to be relaxed with his words. She doesn’t miss the tightening of his shoulders and the wrinkles on his forehead. He had asked a question and her answer didn’t match what he had expected.

 

“Because,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders as she pushes herself off of the floor and onto her feet. “I don’t know what it means to love myself, let alone someone else.”

 

She walks from the room and leaves the confession behind. She hated the truth and she hated how easily she’d given it up. If there was anyone it was safe way though, Raven thinks as the elevator carries her down, it was Wick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I am a day late with this! I pulled a Raven and was up for 40 hours straight this weekend and when I came home Sunday night I figured there was little point editing then. School is crazy already but I'm doing my best to stick with this story like glue! I wrote three chapters over the weekend so things are still going strong. Shooting for a Wednesday upload but Thursday at the latest!
> 
> As for the chapter, I'm always happy for the reviews you guys leave behind. Definitely give me staying power when it comes to the insanity that is my life now! Have a great week everyone!


	28. To Derail the Mind of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick gets more than a healthy dose of panic

**Wick’s POV**

Wick has recently found himself working arduously at believing the fact that Raven was simply _a_ person in his life. But really, it’s more like she’s _the_ person. She’s the person he first thinks of when he wakes up bleary and cranky with late daylight streaming through the window. She’s the one he will always look to when he’s cracking jokes in the group. She’s the person who, when it’s two in the morning and he’s eating pickles straight out of the jar because his sleep schedule is messed up and he doesn’t have the energy to cook, he wishes she was there to suffer the insomnia induced snack with him.

 

So realistically he knows he isn’t fooling anyone (meaning himself) and that he really ought to admit how far gone he was (once again, to himself).

 

The worst part was, though, every time he allowed himself to consider the truth he was forced to submit to the crushing reality of the fact that she might be his person, but he wasn’t hers. Which meant that he would not be sharing pickles with her at two in the morning. (It also meant he wouldn’t be doing any of the other things he would like to be doing at two in the morning with her either).

 

It was all a bit depressing because January was drawing to a close and it had been almost three months since that initial meeting and things keep getting harder, not easier. It was easier in ways, because she trusted him more and let him help her in ways no one else had ever stood a chance to since Finn. But it was harder because she let him in while simultaneously making certain he was always a little bit out. There was a very clear boundary mark and he couldn’t even dare put a toe over it.

 

And it’s hardly as though he can talk through all of this bullshit with anyone. All of his friends at this point were also her friends, probably a bit more so if he was being honest. Not to mention all of them had very big mouths, and anything he said would ultimately end up as information straight back to Raven.  


So he just keeps suffering in silence, trying not to stare at her lips every time they talked and forcing her from his mind whenever she popped up.

 

Not that she helped matters. In fact, she made it so much worse when she bit her lip in thought or pulled her pony tail holder from her hair. If he didn’t know any better he would say she’s doing it on purpose. He most definitely knows better though and wouldn’t dare accuse her of any such things. If anything, Raven would kill him for thinking about her that way.

 

So he does his best to keep his lovesick, puppy dog stares down to a minimum. Or at least, he does once Monty points out that he’s doing it. (“Dude, you look at her like everything in your life was black and white and now she’s this bright ass rainbow of colour.”)

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

He’s wandering through the halls as usual on his second overnight of the week. It was a Wednesday and Raven was off. Jasper was working in her place and though he could always visit him, Wick didn’t know if he was up for the nerd fest at this hour.

 

Somewhere along the way he found himself in the ED. He bumps into Lincoln and makes some small talk, mainly about how they were an unfortunate pair to be stuck on the night shift. The fact that this poor dude’s life was about to change in every way possible, or end once Bellamy caught wind of this whole ordeal, sat heavy on Wick’s mind. He felt pretty damn guilty for knowing about this guy’s impending child when Lincoln didn’t yet. Wick wondered what he would think about the news. A simple mention of Octavia’s name in conversation changes his whole demeanour though, and Wick decides he’ll probably be just fine with the development.

 

Something about the TV in the waiting room catches his eye. The hour has just rolled to five and the news channels were all beginning their broadcasts. Usually he didn’t find traffic jams and weather reports to be all that interesting. (Cars moved slowly. It was fucking cold. Where was the news exactly?) But something entirely different catches his attention that morning.

 

The scene they pan around is a familiar one to him, talking about the armed and dangerous robber who had been scavenging the area.

 

“Two civilians have already been declared dead and six more in critical condition.” The woman on the television announces and another sweeping shot of the affected area leaves Wick’s heart stuttering in his throat. “At the current time there has not been an identified suspect. However, if anyone sees any sort of suspicious activity we ask that you call us immediately.”

 

“Raven,” her name falls past his lips without a second thought. “Shit,” he adds, shooting Lincoln a look. It wasn’t technically legal for him to leave the hospital, not without another engineer on site to relieve him, but he couldn’t bring himself to fucking care.

 

He takes the stairs two at a time to the first floor and half jogs his way to the front doors of the hospital. There’s no surprise when he finds Monty hanging around at Jasper’s desk.

 

Pulling his work phone out of his pocket Wick holds it out. Monty just looks at it and then watches Wick pant, out of breath from his running but also from the panic that seemed to be choking him. “Is there a Reyes in the ER?” he asks Jasper in broken gasps of air, her name caused another crippling bought of fear to run through him.

 

Jasper shoots him a frightened look before clicking and typing. He shakes his head no. “I don’t see her.”

 

Wick pushes the phone further towards Monty. “Pretend to be engineering if anyone calls.” He didn’t care about that, not right now. “I have to go.”

 

“Is Raven okay?” Monty asks, both of them having picked up on her last name a moment ago.

 

The yes dies on his lips with the photo of her trailer, hers specifically, filling up the television downstairs. “Just answer the phone if it rings, Monty.” That’s the best he can do right as he darts out the front door and to his truck, running in a way that leaves his lungs burning as he breathes in the early morning air.

 

His engine struggles its way to life and Wick peels out of the parking garage, breaking speed limits in ways that he hadn’t done before. The whole ride over he tries to talk himself down. It was a big trailer park after all. Statistically speaking Raven’s involvement might not even be existent. But he just hears about the two dead and the six in critical condition and his stomach drops all over again because what if it _is_ her.

 

The thought is the sort that nearly causes him to vomit. The neighbourhood is flooded with police when he gets there, the street blocked off to prevent him from driving down. He moves his truck halfway off the road and doesn’t hesitate to turn it off and take off in the direction of her trailer.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” some cop calls after him and if Wick didn’t think there was a potential they would shoot him down he wouldn’t stop. But he does, turning to face the man who had called out to him. “This is a crime scene, you can’t just go running in here.”

 

“The whole damn neighbourhood can’t be a crime scene,” he argues, completely unsure if the statement was true or not. Regardless it doesn’t seem to make the cop feel more inclined to help him. “Listen, my friend lives here and I saw this on the news and she…I just…” he doesn’t even know what to say. Again the anxiety tightens around him like a vice. There doesn’t really seem to be a right answer on what to do, but he can’t not check on her. His clenches at just the thought, at the very idea of her not answering the door. Damn, he wishes she had a fucking phone. “Please?” he finally asks because he’s not above begging. Not when it comes to her.

 

The cop shakes his head firmly no, hand resting just over the gun or the taser or whatever on his hip. “This is an active crime scene with a suspect who is armed and still at large. I absolutely cannot let you in.”

 

Wick’s hands pull at his hair and he cycles through all of the different ways he can convince this guy, all of the lies he could tell or distractions he could cause to sneak by. He might be better equipped to deal with this if his thoughts weren’t spinning and his chest tightening and if Raven Reyes wasn’t this fucking person that he had gone from caring about to loving in ways he had never intended or accepted or agreed to. But she was and he didn’t know if she was safe and it was eating him up in ways that he wasn’t familiar with. He thinks of the phone call he got years ago. He thinks about staring down at broken, mangled bodies, and he thinks about the fact that there wasn’t anyone else to do that for Raven and he _couldn’t_ do it again.

 

So he ultimately says nothing, but the cop reaches out and starts patting him down and Wick is still too panicked to think much of it before the cop says, “I’m going to look over in that direction,” he points opposite of where Wick stands, “for the next minute or so. If you decide to break the law and sneak through then I know nothing about it. Got it?”

 

He nods his head fast and doesn’t bother with anymore words as he jogs past the cop and around the barricade of police cars. No point in pushing his luck with any questions.

 

There are ambulances and fire trucks and even just some empty goddamn body bags lying on the ground, as if waiting for someone unfortunate enough to fill them. He ignores all of it, focused on his original destination and nothing else. His fist meets her door with more force than might be necessary but the worry is what drives his knuckles against it over and over.

 

The first thing he notices is how empty the area around her trailer is. Wick doesn’t know if that means something for the better or worse. It either meant she hadn’t been affected or it meant that she was already halfway to the morgue. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

 

At first there’s no answer and his blood runs cold and his hand start to sweat. It’s only then he thinks that he should have just asked for names of victims, their trailer numbers, anything that could have given him an answer then and there. He bangs even louder for a few extra seconds before the door blessedly swings wide. “What the fuck do you-“ she starts to ask but he throws his arms around her as soon as she’s in front of him.

 

She doesn’t wear anything more than a t-shirt and her boyshort underwear and she’s propped up in front of him on her crutches but he doesn’t let any of that stop him as he hugs her like he never will be able to again. There had been a moment, just mere seconds ago, where he wondered if that was true. The relief he feels now is almost palpable. If his arms weren’t so tight around her he would worry about knocking her off balance. She didn’t stand a chance of falling when he was holding her like this, though.

 

“What the hell is going on?” she asks, her arms still holding on to her crutches. “Why are there so many police lights out there?” She pulls away and looks at him in question. It would be easier to answer if he wasn’t still completely consumed with the relief that she was okay.

 

“I know you sleep like the dead, Reyes,” he speaks like his entire life hadn’t just shifted for a moment. He tries to remember what words and jokes and smiles all meant before it had momentarily felt like none of it ever really mattered at all. “But even I’m impressed you managed to sleep through this.”

 

The shiver that courses through her body doesn’t surprise him, it is somewhere in the single digits tonight. Her shaking reminds him of the fact that he had forgotten his coat in his rush to get over here. He jerks his head toward the inside of her trailer and she nods, navigating on her crutches to turn around and go back inside. He shuts the door behind him, noticing the stark difference in the temperature. Clearly the part had arrived for the heat.

 

“Was there another robbery or something?” she asks him, her eyes still glazed with sleep. She brings her head down to meet her hand so she can rub at her eyes without dropping her crutch.

 

“Or something,” he sighs. “Apparently some guy broke into five different homes and shot a bunch of people.”

 

“Shit,” she breathes out, much like he had when the news had first hit him. “Is everyone…” she fades off and looks down at her knee and he remembers what guns signify to her. Even if you survived a gunshot, being okay was awfully subjective.

 

He’s not sure how to answer her because there was something about saying no that he’s not sure he can take. Not when she’s looking at him like that at least. “Did I wake your mom?” he asks instead, glancing to the clock on the stove and remembering he did have a place to go back to. Sooner rather than later would probably be for the best.

 

With a pointed look Raven walks over to the hall and points her ear in that direction. It was a bit exaggerated and he isn’t sure if she’s mocking him or not. “Doesn’t seem like it,” she tells him and then gestures for him to sit at their table. “Are you thirsty? We don’t have much but if you want a drink there’s water and…” she swings the door to the fridge open and peers inside. “Milk. Wait, no, that’s expired.” She tosses it in the trashcan still half full. “Okay so water or hard liquor.”

 

It’s probably intended to be a joke but Wick doesn’t laugh. “Water’s good,” he says instead. He sits at the table but with a shaking leg and a heart that’s just remembering how to beat right again.

 

Raven opens the cupboard and uses her good leg to stand on tiptoes, staring in to find a cup. It’s empty so she goes to open the dishwasher where the stench of alcohol sifts out of. She slams it back shut and goes to the sink, picking up a plastic cup and moving to dump it out. What pours from it is thick, dark liquid. With a grimace she throws it back in the sink and falls into a chair at the table, her head falling into her hands as her crutches balance haphazardly.

 

“It’s okay,” he offers as reassurance. He tries to help her save face by waving away her offer. “I don’t need it. I should be getting back to work actually.”

 

Her eyes widen at the statement and all prior embarrassment seems to be forgotten. “You just left work?” she questions, her voice incredulous. When he doesn’t immediately answer she gets all the more worked up. “You can’t just leave!” she shouts. “Do you know much trouble you could get in?” She’s standing again and makes a grab for her crutches. Walking over to him, she pulls on his arm to get him up. “Go,” she demands, pushing him towards the door.

 

“I left Monty with the phone, it’ll be fine,” he offers as a promise. It makes no difference, though. Raven still pushes him with insistence towards the door. He’s more than a little impressed at how she still manages to shove him even with the use of her crutches. “Alright, alright, I’m going.” In no way would he ever admit it, but just before he leaves he turns and looks at her again, committing the way her hair fell when she just woke up and how her body leaned just so when she stood to memory. “Lock this behind me,” he insists in a dark voice. Tonight seemed like the sort of night that would stick with him long after the new day started.

 

She offers him a mocking salute and he steps out. He almost expects a door in the face but she continues to stand, watching expectantly. With heavy steps he walks away from her and back towards his truck.

 

It’s on the drive back to the hospital that he acknowledges that he had never before been so afraid of losing someone.

 

He ignores the voice that reminds him she’s not his to lose.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Two days after the whole ordeal and Wick has almost gone crazy. He’s had three separate dreams that all consisted of Raven’s death. (It always ended with a gunshot.) It’s gotten to the point where he knows that he either needs to talk to someone about it or continue to slowly lose his mind. Along with his immunity and basic functioning due to lack of sleep.

 

On Friday night at work he spends more time visiting her than usual, trying to drink in all of the Raven Reyes he can for the day. She’s a bit on the grumpy side but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to and the first time he makes her smile that night causes everything in him to melt down to nothing, his heart too warm to survive it.

 

“So,” he opens with, perched on the side of her desk and fiddling with one of the pens on her desk. She shoots him a look every time he reaches over and twirls the end of her ponytail with it. “I do believe I owe you some driving lessons.”

 

The response he had expected was indifferent eye rolling or even an ‘about damn time.’ But instead she has to bite her lip to tuck away her smile and she looks up at him through long eyelashes. His heart literally fucking stops at that look and he beats himself for not bringing this up so many days sooner. If he knew he would get _that_ look he would have invited her the day after she’d brought it up. The fact that they had both been so busy, not to mention the endless snow, was irrelevant.  

 

“You didn’t forget then,” she says after collecting herself a bit and looking away.

 

“Please,” he mutters as he does his very best to ignore the many responses his body is having. “I have far too good of follow through for that.”

 

She scoffs and Wick can’t help it, he’s offended. “When have I ever not followed through?” he challenges, half teasing but also invading her space a little bit further. He wanted her to realise that when he said something, he stuck with it. That was important for her to know. Or at least, this was important for him to know she was aware of.

 

Of course her mouth immediately opens to respond. This was Raven Reyes after all; she always had some sort of response. He gets the glorious moment of watching her confident, ready expression fade into one of questioning and confusion. Her jaw slips shut as her eyes scan back and forth, as if flipping through her brain for the answer. “See?” he asks, reminding himself to be gentle as he nudges her leg with his foot. “Told you so.”

 

Again, she has nothing to say and Wick is a bit flabbergasted by the silence. Raven wasn’t one to give up on a fight.

 

With a winning smile he slides from her desk and walks to the doors to leave. He could at least pretend to do some work for the next two hours before he came back here to pick her up and drive her home.

 

“Kyle.” She stops him just as the scanner releases it’s ‘beep’ when he drags his badge across it.

 

Without a second thought his entire self comes to a stop. Never before had she used his first name. He didn’t realise how foreign of a word it was until it fell past her lips. The swirl of his stomach and the build of his pulse are ignored as he turns back around to face her.

 

For whatever reason he’s shocked to find her expression so blank. It wasn’t that it was an uncommon look for her, but his name falling past her lips had felt monumental in his mind and he’s unrightfully disappointed that she doesn’t appear to have experienced that same shift. “Thank you for following through.” There’s no smile so he knows it’s not a joke. There’s no tears so he knows it’s not out of desperation. There’s just earnest eyes and a vulnerable stare so he knows it’s nothing but sincerity.

 

He doesn’t say you’re welcome. He was the one who was grateful he got the chance to follow through at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not edited to my usual standards which I already know isn't the best to begin with lol. So you have my apologies. School is insane already. I'm extremely grateful for the extra chapters I have written up. For that fact alone I'll keep up with every other day updates. Hopefully things will calm down next weekend so I can write some new stuff as well! Once again, sorry if it's a bit more disjointed and sloppy than usual.


	29. Stop Searching Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven finds the truth somewhere she least expected.

**Raven’s POV**

 

Raven shouldn’t be surprised when she walks out of work from the grocery store Saturday evening and finds Wick’s truck idling in the fire zone. He had asked for her schedule a few days ago and though he’d been insistent it was to arrange practise driving times, Raven had a feeling there was another hidden agenda that came with it. Maybe she should yell at him for this sort of behaviour but the wind was blowing and the forecast had been calling for snow which had just started falling moments earlier and she kind of just didn’t care enough to get mad at him. Instead she just throws the passenger door open and moves to jump in.

 

“Not so fast,” he says before she makes her usual one legged leap into the cabin.

 

Crossing her arms over her chest she stares at him in contempt. It was too cold out here to play games. Wick jumps out of his side and comes around to meet her. “It’s driving time, Reyes.”

 

She stares at him blankly, looking up to the small snowflakes against the dark sky. These were hardly ideal learning conditions. “Did you want to kill us both?” Normally she was cocky about the idea of driving. She was determined that, as an aspiring mechanic and someone who was mildly obsessed with anything involving an engine, she’d be a damn good driver. However now was the time to look at things a bit more objectively and accept the fact that she only just knew what she was doing.

 

With an obnoxious smile he moves around her and throws himself into the passenger side of the truck. He shuts the door and just looks down on her out in the cold expectantly. She heaves a sigh and makes her way over to the other side of the truck. It was like getting on a horse backwards, and it takes her a minute to figure out how to climb into the truck from this side. After a minute though she’s in and shutting the door behind her. She doesn’t touch anything.

 

“This is a terrible idea,” she mumbles to herself as she finds a way to shift her seat into the right position and messes with the rear-view mirror. First she finds the headlights and switches them on and then she moves to the windshield wipers, doing the same. It wasn’t snowing enough to impede a normal person’s ability to drive, but she wasn’t quite sure how she would do in bright, sunny conditions, let alone the beginning of a potential winter storm.

 

Wick points to the parking lot and she looks up, surprised to find it near abandoned aside from two cars which were spread very far apart. “Go crazy,” he says, offering no other instructions.

 

She’d been behind the wheel a couple times before. Finn used to steal his mom’s car every once in a while when it was very late and they were high off of the humidity of summer and the sugar which coated their lips. He never went very far, there wasn’t anywhere to go in Newark anyway. But once or twice he would drive to their high school and abandon the seat to Raven. She would sit behind the steering wheel, giddy as she went five miles an hour in the utter darkness. Finn would insist he was still a better driver. (She constantly rubbed it in his face that she perfectly backed into a parking spot on her first try. If he was still alive he would probably continue to state it had been nothing but luck.)

 

Now that there was a pang in her chest from yet another reminder of fucking Finn, Raven presses her foot down on the brakes and puts the truck into gear, more than aware of the hum it gave as it switched to drive. She smiled.

 

As she eased her foot off the brake she also turned the wheel, driving through the lanes of the parking lot and testing out his brakes and acceleration. It moved with more ease than Finn’s mom’s old car. Then again, that thing just barely stayed alive. Wick plays with the radio and kicks his feet up on the dashboard. “This is more like it,” he says, tossing her an easy smile. “I’m gonna start making you drive everywhere.” The idea didn’t sound terrible. “Alright, make a right on the road.”

 

“What?” she demands, slamming the brake with too much force which sends them both jolting forward. “That’s not even legal.”

 

“Neither is building a rocket on an abandoned floor of the hospital,” he reminds her. He liked to bring that up it seemed. “Just do the same thing you do with that.” He leans towards her and his voice drops to a near whisper as he says, “Don’t get caught.”

 

Suddenly she’s practically bubbling over from the excitement. Maybe it’s from his whispered words or maybe it’s from the car that goes whooshing past them as she waits to turn. All she knows is for the first time in a very long while she feels in control. And damn does she like it.

 

Once she’s on the road, Wick sits up and turns the radio down. He watches with careful eyes as he offers her directions every couple of seconds. When they reach heavier traffic she can see his anxiety mounting and for whatever reason it just leaves her feeling more at ease. She likes the groan of the truck as she urges it faster on the main road and she feels a small thrill as she honks her horn at the guy who tries to cut her off with his left hand turn. Wick guided her wheel back to the middle of the road a time or two and was constantly saying, “slow down, maybe hit the brakes a little, you know I think the light might turn red soon,” but she felt amazing.

 

She needed her legs to walk and to ride a bike and to do everything else in her life. But right now all she needed was the one leg she had; the other could be as useless as it wanted beside her. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” she asks, her fingers tensing around their ten and two position as she turned the car into a shopping centre, per Wick’s instructions.

 

“Just park the car somewhere that there aren’t a lot of people.” She brakes a little too much and has to back out of the spot and pull back in to actually be in the lines, but she makes it. “Have you done this before?” he asks incredulously.

 

With a shake of her head, Raven opens the door and compares the lines to her tires, trying to determine how crooked she might be. “Not really.” It looked perfect.

 

“So are you just good at everything?” he grumbles as he unbuckles his seatbelt and moves to get out of the truck.

 

“Wait!” she yells after him, turning the car off in a hurry to follow him. “Where the hell are you going?” she asks as she slides to the ground, quick to correct her landing on the side of the truck as she starts to fall. With frustrations she half trots her way up to where he’s walking. “I thought these were driving lessons.

 

“They were,” he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her across the street with him. “Now I’m hungry so it’s dinner.” He opens the door and gestures for her to walk through and Raven can’t help but feel like she’s been duped into some form of a date.

 

Instead of being upset she just gives him a playful glare as she walks through. It’s a small Chinese place, red crinkled lanterns hang from the ceiling and music filled with harps and zithers fill the space. It’s nothing fancy, in fact she would daresay the dim lighting was intentional, but the cracked vinyl seats were more than enough in her eyes.

 

Wick walks to the counter, the worker greeting him and offering a menu. He offers it to her without so much as a glance. Up until then she was fine with the whole thing. As a rule of thumb though she didn’t eat out. It was a waste of money that could be spent on far more useful things. She holds the menu back out to him. “I’m good.” Raven ignores the gnawing in her stomach that reminds her she isn’t. There was something in the fridge at home. She could easily wait until then.

 

“Don’t be stupid, Reyes,” he says, doing that thing where he tugs her toward him. She wonders when that turned into something she just let him do. She sways on her feet but he reaches out and steadies her with an arm around her shoulders without so much as looking, as if he _knew_. For a moment she thinks about flinching away, the weight of him heavy and warm in ways she wasn’t used to. But she decided that the warmth was nice, thawing out her very bones, and the weight comforting, anchoring her to the moment. She stays put, but just this time. “I know you like Chinese. Bellamy told me.”

 

Ugh, her damn friends and their big mouths. “Fine,” she says, growing irritated for no real reason. The weight stopped being reassuring and she felt scoured from the inside out. Where did everyone get off thinking they knew her so well? Where did _he_ get off trying to feed her and pretend like he knew her inside and out. “If you know so well then just order.” She twists out of his arm and makes her way over to a table, they were mostly empty anyway. She sits heavily in the seat and tries to leave her sour mood behind.

 

It was the sort of crankiness that rose out of her without warning and was left sitting between her eyebrows in a scowl. She didn’t like the way the feeling intruded, ruining the lightness she had felt from driving and the closeness she had felt from Wick. Her fingers loosened some of the hair on one side of her ponytail, tucking their way beneath the strands and twisting. When he comes back he’s not the least bit put out, his posture easy and his face relaxed. She wonders if he’s going to ask if she’s okay but he doesn’t. At least he had that going for him.

 

With her arms crossed over her chest Raven sits a little taller, as much as her leg would allow. She sees his eyes scan over her body, taking in her tense shoulders and even breathing. He still doesn’t ask so she helps him out. “I don’t think I like it when you just assume things.” She hates the way she adds in the word think, like she isn’t really sure. She just knows right now that for some reason he’s getting on her nerves and no matter how hard she tries she can’t talk herself down from it.

 

“Did you want Italian?” he asks, face totally innocent and eyes slightly mischievous. “Maybe Mediterranean? Mexican? Middle Eastern? Or perhaps some Vietnamese?”

 

She glowers but something about him breaks through for just a second. “Shut up.” She falls back in her seat, nothing left to say.

 

The answering smile riles her up again. “I daresay,” he starts, leaning toward her with a leering smile. “That Raven Reyes is hangry.”

 

She goes to argue, her mouth already open and ready to explain that she wasn’t hangry, just irritated by his general existence. But then there’s a heaping plate of food being placed in front of her and all of her anger towards him dissipates. She had never been very good at staying mad at the people who helped keep her fed. (She hated that there was a list.)

 

The plate is half gone before she even registers what she’s eating. The Mu Shu Pork and orange chicken separated in their own little sections on the plate with a heaping pile of chow mein noodles in the biggest portion. She registers as she swallows another mouthful that he _did_ know what she wanted. “You’re not allowed to talk to my friends anymore,” she mumbles around another bit of chicken. She played that game with herself where she ignored the pang she felt in her chest and the quiver in her lip.

 

He raises an eyebrow and when she gives a pointed look at her plate he shakes his head. “You told me your favourite, stupid,” he says and she’s reminded of that night in his apartment not that long ago. She’d blurted out her favourite foods without a second thought and he’d apparently memorised it. She fixes him with a stare and he looks at her like he’s totally innocent and not some guy who sat around learning her food orders. “Eat your damn chicken.”

 

Even when he’s long since stopped, Raven plows right through, not bothering to be embarrassed about her eating habits much longer. Half of his food is left behind and when she finally sits back there’s only a handful of noodles and two pieces of orange chicken left behind. He nudges his plate towards her and she shakes her head. “Better?” he asks, which translates to ‘less hangry?’

 

She hates him for it but it might be the truth. Her irritation subsides quickly. Though that might have to do with the fact that Wick was who he was more so than the food itself. She reaches across and plucks one of his walnut shrimps off his plate, popping it in her mouth. “Mine was better,” she says after she swallows and takes a long drink of water.

 

Someone brings the check by, dropping off two fortune cookies on their way. Raven reaches for the bill, curious how much this would cost her and hopeful the crumpled ten she’d shoved in her pocket that morning for some new socks (she was down to nothing but pairs filled with holes) would be enough to cover her portion. He bats her hand away and shoves a fortune cookie in her direction. “This is obviously the most important part of the whole meal.” He says it very solemnly, like it was law.

 

She takes it and rips the plastic open, cracking the cookie without fanfare and going to read the tiny slip of paper inside. “Whoa, whoa whoa,” he reaches a hand out and cover hers. “You have to eat the cookie first or the fortune won’t come true.”

 

With furrowing brows she offers him her most skeptical look. “I’ve never heard that before in my life.”

 

“Because you’re obviously uncultured swine,” he says with a shake of his. With a roll of her eyes she pops the first half of the cookie in her mouth, savouring the slightly sweet flavour as she broke the cookie up, the shards of it sharp against the inside of her cheek.

 

“Are there any more traditions I should be aware of before partaking in the sacred fortune cookie any further or am I good to go?” she asks, holding up her second half towards him, the slip of paper still poking out.

 

Wick thinks for a minute before he says, “You have to swear your loyalty to the fortune cookie via interpretive dance and then kiss everyone in the restaurant, then you may proceed.” She plucks the paper out as she pops the other half of the cookie in her mouth with a shake of her head. “Fine, don’t come crying to me when you land yourself in fortune cookie hell.”

 

She looks around the restaurant to see who else is seated. (There’s no one.) Sly bastard. After she swallows she holds the stare he fixes on her, not looking away even as she takes a sip of her water. “Are we safe to proceed?” she whispers and his face lights up with how she plays along. “Should one of us say the official ceremonial prayer?”

 

“Nah, I think we’re good.” Raven glances down, staring at the Chinese letters on the one side first, and glancing over her lucky numbers. “I’ll go first. A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step,” he reads it loud and important. “Hm, pretty lame. Your turn.”

 

She flips the paper over and starts to read her own in the same announcing voice. “Stop searching forever,” she reads out first, the next line causing her words to falter and her tone to fall. “Happiness is next to you.” She finishes, swallowing hard and staring down at the words. “It’s not even a fortune,” she mumbles, trying not to think about what the words feel like. They feel like the sand in the ocean shifting beneath your feet and when you miss the last step of stairs in the darkness. They feel like falling in a dream or twisting in the snow only to find a warm body meeting you on the way down. They’re a truth she didn’t know existed and one she’s afraid to accept.

 

When she meets Wick’s eyes he’s got this look in his eye that just screams, “I told you so,” and she realises exactly what that feels like. Because even when the sands shift and you miss the stair or your jolted from sleep- there was still something solid and there and safe once you’ve regained your balance and have oriented to what’s around you once more. She realises that the truth feels a little bit like falling and that Wick is undoubtedly going to catch her.

 

She shoves the fortune in her pocket with the ten dollar bill and doesn’t say a word as he shoves his credit card in the check book. Until they get up that is. Then she takes the hand he offers and very simply says, “Thank you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a test on Monday so apologies for this being late. Took a study break to do a quick edit and upload. Let me know what you think about these two idiots and I intend to post again Monday night! Also, Thursday's episode...I'm still in awe. Feel free to talk about it with me in the comments. If anyone wants to see my endless stream of consciousness on it then feel free to follow me on Tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/blog/timespaceandpixiedust. Hope you all have a great weekend!!
> 
> Also, this chapter was inspired by an actual fortune received a few weeks ago. The sentiment was a little too lovely for me to pass up.


	30. Never Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick can't help himself.

**Wick’s POV**

Taking Raven driving was possibly more terrifying than Wick ever thought. At first he works hard to exude total confidence in her and she soon picks up on it. Then he completely and utterly regrets the confidence he seems to have given her because she keeps pressing on the gas and she switches lanes to get around a particularly slow Civic and she blows right through a yellow light. He swears his life flashes before his eyes. Not because she’s a _bad_ driver but because she’s so damn good there’s just no way she’s a real person.

 

Every so often he offers up some advice, mainly asking her to slow down for the sake of old Betsy, but she seems to know what she’s doing just fine. It’s beyond infuriating as he recalls the three months he spent with a death grip on the steering wheel and his mother sighing beside him going, “You’re going to have to take your foot off of the brake eventually, Kyle.”

 

Occasionally she turns too far, or not far enough, and he reaches over to help her not run into the other lane once or twice. But she gets the hang of it in mere minutes. He hates her for being so good at this. But he really doesn’t. He wants to throw his arms around her and make fun of her for showing him up on everything and lean down to meet her lips as he mumbles something along the lines of, “Well maybe you can’t show me up on _everything._ ” Which would lead to her rolling her eyes and answering, “ _I sure as hell can if you keep talking._ ”

 

But right, no, hating her was probably for the best.

 

At dinner she’s all over the place and he has a hard time keeping up with her. She keeps trying to go somewhere dark and angry and he fights tooth and nail in an attempt to keep her with him. Once in a while she did this, retreating into her gnarled, biting self as if attempting to fight him off. With enough effort he almost always pulls her back out.

 

When they walk out of the restaurant she’s light again. Even with the heaviness of her leg she still manages to move with a bounce in her step as she begins rambling about something to do with his engine. “Tomorrow night I need you to quiz me,” Raven says as she pops into the truck. The snow was falling a little more heavily now and she’d handed the keys over to him without complaint.

 

“On?” he asks, warmed at the thought of her knowing his schedule as well as he knew hers now. She pulls her seatbelt on without reminder and rubs at her knee as he pulls the truck into traffic. He shoots it a concerned glance before fixing his eyes back on the road.

 

“Just some stuff out of my book,” she says, but he can hear an undercurrent of excitement. It was a little ridiculous, someone so thrilled over studying, but then he remembers her missing two years of school and hopes for college that don’t seem possible. Perhaps getting giddy over having something to work towards wasn’t funny at all.

 

So with a gentle swelling in his chest and the memory that he had been the one to give her that book to begin with, Wick nods. “You just want to show off,” he teases as he pulls into her neighbourhood.

 

“As if I need any help with that,” she answers and he thinks about her impressive driving skills and hates her for being right.

 

He comes to a stop in front of her trailer, putting the truck into park and letting the engine idle. Raven doesn’t move to get out. The snow is falling a little more heavily now which is why he hadn’t seen it at first but he follows her gaze and finds a car sitting out front of her trailer. It’s not in the best shape and there’s a bumper sticker on the back that he couldn’t read from here. “Raven?” he asks because now her fingers are beating out a frantic rhythm against her leg and her breath is coming faster than it normally does.

 

She looks to him with fear in her eyes and a furrowed brow as her hand runs along her hair, finding nothing but the long end of her ponytail. “I can’t…can you-“ her chest heaves and he sees her bottom lip tremble.

 

That’s enough, he decides after just a second more. He throws the car back into drive and goes straight for his place. There were no questions worth asking or words worth offering. Instead his hand reaches across and clenches around her leg, just above where her brace ends. She grabs it in her hand and holds him tighter than normal.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Once he’s pulled into a parking spot Raven has the door open and is slipping to the ground before he’s managed to get the truck to stop running. She walks in a rush to his doorstep and is through the door in mere seconds. The stairs slow her down and she’s forced to lessen her pace as she takes each one slowly but surely. Wick comes up beside her and wraps his arm around her, trying to make her feel safe when she so clearly didn’t.

 

His own hands tremble as he slips the key into the lock once they reach the top. She walks in before him and he locks the door as soon as their through. Her breathing has slowed, still heavy but more so from the exertion of the stairs than the panic she’d been experiencing. “Hey,” he’s saying before he’s gotten any further in what he’s going to do.

 

She offers him a thumbs up as she inhales deeply, the sound broken and fractured as it struggles its way down. The exhale is just as fragmented as her eyes fall shut and her head hangs in defeat. He takes a tentative step, remembering to give her space but offering himself in whatever capacity she wanted right now. She looks to the door and then to him and her breaths are still coming in heavy puffs.

 

“He shot me,” she breathes out, her gaze falling to her leg, all emotion wiped from her face. She looks up to him, her frantic breathing paused as she swallows heavily. The space between her eyebrows cinches and a tooth finds its way to her bottom lip. Her hands clench and unclench into fists once and then twice.  “He fucking shot me and she let him back in.”

 

When she looks up to him again she doesn’t look angry so much as confused. “Raven…” he starts because he doesn’t know what else to do when the one person he loves most in the world is standing before him, her head shaking frantically from side to side and her eyes searching for an answer that couldn’t be found.

 

His hand reaches out to her but she pushes it aside. She’s stronger than he expected. “Don’t.” It isn’t so much a warning as a plea. He pulls back. One of her hand twists into her ponytail and the other starts tapping against her bad leg. It’s an angry beat, frantic and rough. “I can’t…” Her eyes squeeze shut but there are no tears leaking past, just a steely resolve fixing itself into place once more. “I hate her,” she whispers, a truth being unleashed from a place so deeply buried. “I hope she fucking _dies.”_ Raven spits out, her face contorting with the word. “Because that bastard crippled her daughter and she didn’t even…she doesn’t…Why doesn’t she care?”

 

The next time she looks at him it’s with wet eyes and a hollowed out stare as her jaw falls slack and her shoulders give. The anger has been rolled away by sadness. “I only ever asked her one thing,” she growls towards him. “And she promised me. In the hospital she promised me that she would turn to anyone but him.” Her lower lip trembles as a broken exhale gasps its way out. “I lost the use of my damn leg and she can’t keep one fucking promise.” The fury rolls out of her in full, fat tears.

 

The dry anger had been when she was still convincing herself she no longer cared. This wet rage was the proof of how much she did. He’s not prepared when her tiny fists slam against his chest, not enough force to hurt him but it does cause him to stagger back for a second. “I only. Wanted. One. Fucking. Thing.” She yells out the words, her fists hitting him after each one as sob rips from her throat and she finally surrenders into his arms. “Why doesn’t she love me?” she gasps out, hands clenching his shirt as his arms wrapped tightly around her shaking form.

 

“She does,” he promises because it’s the only thing that feels the least bit right in this moment.

 

Her forehead rubs against his chest as she shakes her head. “Not enough,” she chokes out. “Love isn’t ever enough.”

 

Every part of him wants to argue that statement but he thinks of her useless mother, draining her of every resource she has. He thinks of Finn, loving her his whole life but not enough, dying regardless of what either of them had. He thinks of his dad, getting behind the wheel in a drunken stupor and he thinks of his sister, surrounded in a tub of thick, bloody water.

 

The thoughts make him hold her that much tighter against him, trying for once to make it enough. She leans heavily on him but the only reason he’s still standing is because of her. “I’m sorry,” he says because love isn’t enough and he doesn’t know how to make it.

 

She shakes against him and it reminds him of how small she is in ways he’s never been aware of before. “What if he kills her?” she breathes the question out. “What if he kills her and it’s my fault because I ran away?”

 

“It’s not your fault,” he says with as much conviction as he can find. “None of this shit is your fault.” The weight of her world sits heavy on her shoulders and for once he feels the true pressure that works against her each and every day.

 

Eventually her hands unclench from his shirt and she works her arms around him.

 

When she breaks away her eyes are red and puffy. She stares at him with sadness etched into each line of her forehead and the worry inscribed by the indent of teeth on her bottom lip. “Wick,” she breathes out his name, a sad quirk of her lip being chased away by further tears gathering. “There’s no way out,” she mumbles, looking to the ceiling as soon as the revelation falls past her lips. “I’m _stuck_ and she’s never going to be anything more than a drunk and a user and-and…my mother.” She takes a deep breath to calm her emotions as they once again climbed. “She’s my mother and she’s never going to love me enough.”

 

The words are out there and they’re open and honest and the kind of hurtful that digs into you in every weak spot. Bones snap and muscles tear and tendons release with words like that. “I’ll love you enough, okay?” he tells her because he can’t hold it back when she’s breaking apart in front of him. He doesn’t know if it’s sufficient to hold her together, but he hopes she lets him try.

 

She studies him for a never ending second and then she pushes herself up onto tiptoes with her good foot, and throws her arms around his neck. Her hot breath blows against his lips for only a second before she crashes her lips against his, her hand pulling his neck down to meet her.

 

They meet in a messy, frenzied passion and her hands are everywhere in a seconds, running along the hem of his shirt, across his abs, through his hair. She kisses him and just like every other damn thing that Raven Reyes does, she doesn’t half ass it. His hands find her waist the small of her back and the ends of her pony tail. He worships every inch of her that he has the right to touch and tries to commit the goose bumps that rise with each touch and the feel of her tongue sliding into his mouth to memory.

 

When she pulls away she’s breathing hard, her slightly bruised lips now matching her swollen eyes. She looks up at him with a broken expression and a fear so obvious that he wants nothing more than to quell it. She takes a step back and his arms drop immediately. “Raven…” he starts.

 

She shakes her head to stop him and turns away. She’s out the front door before he even knows what’s happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, sorry this is a day late again but I hope the wait was worth it. I kicked ass on my exam on Monday so I'm hoping to spend the next couple of days getting caught up on writing. I know the chapter was a bit shorter than I tend to post but considering where it lead us I didn't imagine you would mind too terribly. Do tell me your thoughts and where you expect they might go from here. Thanks for reading!


	31. Living Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven runs away and somehow ends up in the right place anyway.

**Raven’s POV**

As if everything hadn’t been fucked and terrifying enough in that moment, she just had to go and kiss him. At no point did Raven stop and think it through. Wick didn’t put his hands on her shoulders and ask, “Are you sure?” the one and only time where she really wasn’t.

 

Escaping had seemed like the only obvious answer once his words weren’t filling her up and his lips weren’t over ruling her every sense. Afterwards she could see the regret and hear the silent wondering and taste him on her lips and smell his scent on her skin and feel the tension that filled the air between them. Everything stopped being his lips and his kiss and his touch and just became his entire existence instead.

 

So she ran for the door. The night had been too heavy and real and she was wrung dry from all of the emotions she’d already run through. She couldn’t handle this on top of it.

 

Raven is more than surprised when the door doesn’t immediately open and she figures he must still be in shock. She does her best to make her way down the stairs quickly but her steps falter as soon as she hits the foyer. The glass door lets her see the cold world outside and she remembers why all the running had started tonight in the first place.

 

The snow swirls in light snowflakes and she tries not to be put off, grateful that her jacket was still on. She slips outside the door before she can give it any more thought and go running back to him. He wanted her to trust him and dammit she wanted to. But she knew where that had landed her in the past. She couldn’t accept that as her future.

 

The cold embraces her like an old friend. She accepts the blowing wind and sets out for the main road.

 

\-------------------------------------

 

Part of her isn’t even surprised when the car stops next to her tonight only a few minutes later. There’s no fear left to come rolling through her, no relief to come pouring down when she realises who it is.

 

“Raven?” Abby asks through the passenger window. “Is that you?”

 

“Yes,” is all she says in response because there isn’t really any other answer. The roads are abandoned for the most part tonight. The snow fall wasn’t heavy but it had been going on for a few hours now. It was enough to scare people off.

 

“What are you doing? You’ll freeze to death.” She leans over and opens the door to her car. Raven takes care to attempt to shake some of the snow off of her shoes before getting in. It’s actually harder lowering herself to get in the car than it was jumping up into Wick’s truck. She wasn’t sure if that was due to practise or basic physics.

 

As soon as she’s sitting hands are on her, feeling her forehead and patting down on the arm closest to the driver’s side. “I’m fine,” she insists, pulling away. This woman was always touching her. She still felt too raw for that right now. His hands had been the last thing on her and she wasn’t ready for someone else to take that away just yet.

 

“Do you need a ride home?” Abby asks, her voice tentative. Raven shakes her head no. “Okay then, where do you need to go?” She’s soft and maternal and Raven is reminded of the woman who told her that she would never walk the same again and the one who held her hand the time her mom didn’t seem like she was going to wake up. It’s the sort of softness that brings her walls down in ways that force could never manage.

 

The offer makes her tear up, though she keeps it together. She accepts that she has nowhere left to go. For a brief moment she considers just asking for her to take her back to Wick’s. He wouldn’t care. He was probably going out of his mind with worry and that makes a twinge of guilt flash through her. After everything he’d done and what he’d said tonight…damn she was a shitty friend. “I’m heading to work but Clarke’s home. Would you like me to take you to my house?”

 

The offer is simple. The implications are heavy. Abby Griffin was a giving person. Raven Reyes just wasn’t very good at the taking. “Yes,” she answers quietly. She was out of ideas. She had to take whatever was offered to her.

 

With extreme caution, Abby works to turn her car around right there in the middle of the street. It’s small enough that she doesn’t have too much trouble, though a few times Raven worries about the traction of the tires in the light coating of snow that was beginning to collect on the blacktop.

 

Once in they’re in a steady motion toward the Griffin household Abby starts talking. “Physical therapy must be going well if you’re managing to ambulate out in this mess,” she says. It’s a comment that is disguised as positive though the doctor was so clearly condemning Raven for her late night winter stroll.

 

“It’s going great,” she lies. She’d been given a referral and an application for state insurance that Abby had sworn she would have no trouble getting. ‘You’re a minor; no chance the state will decline you.’ Perhaps she had been right, Raven had never risked sending it in. Her mother was in enough trouble with the government without her sending in applications with her name on it to remind them. “Thanks again.”

 

“Raven,” she sighs, braking more on her turns and gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly than Raven was used to seeing Wick do. She got the feeling driving in the snow wasn’t Abby’s favourite past time. “Surely by now you can stop thanking me. It’s been over a year.”

 

Her only answer is a shrug. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to not feel somewhat indebted to her, both as her doctor and as a friend. “How’s Clarke?” Raven asks, because that’s what she always asks and that’s what Abby always answers and it should be enough to fill the rest of the miles toward their destination.

 

“Clarke is just fine. How are _you_?”

 

Dammit. “Just fine.” Her tone is dry.

 

There are a few heavy seconds before Abby says, “I know things are hard between you and Clarke, and I’m sure you don’t want to talk to me of all people about it, but I hope you know Clarke stills feels terrible about what happened with Finn. I don’t think she’ll ever stop regretting missing how that light turned red.”

 

The words perk Raven’s interest in a way she hadn’t expected. She’d been prepared to write off Abby’s plea of being her daughter’s BFF as she did any other time. This was the first she was hearing of Clarke being the one to have run that damn red light. From day one everyone had told her it’d been the other driver. She doesn’t even know how she feels about this information, the new truth still too numbing for her to grasp onto. “I know,” is all she says in a whisper because she can’t process and because she hardly wanted to sit here and hash this out with Abby Griffin.

 

“Well how about your mother?” she goes on to ask, changing the topic that it was clear Raven had no desire to discuss. “Is she doing alright?” She doesn’t take her eyes off the road to fix Raven with a stare, but she had spent enough time with the woman to know the exact look she would be receiving if it was possible. ‘Tell the truth,’ it would say.

 

“The same.” It’s the best truth she had. The thought jumps to her mind that she might be dead with a gunshot wound to the chest. Maybe Abby would see her roll in through the ED tonight, already dead but someone still attempting to revive her. Maybe it was a lie but maybe being dead and being alive were actually the same thing for her mother.

 

“And you said you were able to get the food stamps, right?” So much this woman had tried to do for her. She knew the beginnings of the life Raven had been living. She had tried to help with the information she had. Raven didn’t have the heart to tell her that things were worse than she could imagine.

 

Maybe if she fessed up things would be easier. She didn’t doubt for a second that Abby would send her home with non-perishable items and Clarke’s old clothes and maybe even a handful of cash. It was who she was, some charity saint woman who flew off to Ecuador and Guatemala and Ethiopia. She was a doctor and a mother for a very obvious reason. She wanted someone to take care of. Raven spares a thought as to why there aren’t more Griffin children. “Yeah, more than enough.”

 

“Good,” she says, turning the car into the driveway which was already a couple inches deep in snow. The tires spin a bit as she attempts to pull up the slight incline. “I’ll walk you in.”

 

The house is lowly lit and warm. Raven shrugs out of her coat as soon as she walks in, draping it over her arm. “Clarke! Jake! We have a visitor!” Abby shouts it through the house as if it were something exciting instead of a nuisance on a Saturday night. It’s late; Raven’s surprised they aren’t asleep already.

 

The man Raven had met back in December comes out from the kitchen, apron on and spoon in hand. “Hello,” he greets, an easy smile that grows a little bit wider when he looks at his wife. Raven hates them for their easy happiness and obvious love. “You’re Clarke’s friend. Raven, right?” With the way these two women acted like they talked about her she wouldn’t be surprised if he starts pulling out random facts about her. “I thought you were going to work?” he asks his wife before she answers.

 

“Circumstances lead me to Raven first. Figured Clarke would like an excuse not to study tonight,” she rolls her eyes as if to say that Clarke had plenty of excuses not to study.

 

“I don’t want to interrupt anyth-“

 

“Raven?” Clarke asks halfway down the stairs. “Is everything okay?” She looks to her mom for an answer instead of Raven herself. She felt a tingle of irritation at this. Though there was the whole doctor/patient confidentiality business Raven wouldn’t be surprised if Clarke knew a little more about her life than her other friends.

 

She crosses her arms over her chest, ready to defend her well-being yet again when Abby jumps in to answer. “Totally fine but Raven and I got to talking on my way to work. I figured you would be more than happy with some company tonight and Raven said she was willing to put up with you for a few hours.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes, aware that her mom was teasing. Raven felt a little awkward over the comment, mainly because it was a little bit true.

 

“Alright, I really have to get to work. They’re short because of the weather.” Jake comes over and kisses her quickly on the lips and Abby reaches over, kissing the top of Clarke’s head. She offers Raven a kind smile as she heads for the door. “Try not to torture our guest, you two!” she calls over her shoulder, not bothering to wait for any affirmation as the door swings shut behind her.

 

“I’m making cookies if you girls want anything to eat,” Clarke’s dad offers as a farewell as he goes back into the kitchen, a beeping sounding from there.

 

“You sure do hate to use the phone, don’t you?” Clarke says and Raven knows it’s a total joke but she feels the sting of the comment regardless. Something in her expression must tip Clarke off to how she feels though because she quickly adds, “Not that I mind in the slightest. I’ve only been back in school for a couple of weeks but I’m dying already.”

 

Raven nods, eyes fixed on Clarke in a way that wasn’t normal. She couldn’t get Abby’s words from earlier out of her head. She wasn’t sure how she felt about her friends hiding the truth from her. She didn’t really know if it’d been for her sake or Clarke’s. She didn’t know if she cared. “I bet,” she says.

 

“Come on,” Clarke says, starting for the stairs again. “We can hang out in my room.”

 

Raven shoves down her pride as she slowly makes her way up the stairs. She kept waiting for the day when it didn’t bother her every time someone saw her slow, childlike method but it had yet to come. Clarke is patient and slows her pace when she realises Raven isn’t as fast. She doesn’t wait for her to catch up but she moves less like herself and more like an old person. She was probably used to dealing with people who had issues. With a doctor for a mother Clarke had probably been volunteering at clinics since she could talk, playing with mentally disabled children and stitching up wounded soldiers. Okay, not really, but this family was weird.

 

Clarke’s room is a weird combination of kid, teenager, and adult. One wall is pink, though most of it is covered with a variety of posters, there’s a desk with a pile of books on it and closet over flowing with clothes, dirty laundry in a pile in the corner. On the back of her door hangs scarves and hats and necklaces and there’s a few stuffed animals sitting on top of her teal bedspread. The floor is covered with art supplies. There are paints and canvases and charcoal along with pencils and paper and half-finished sketches. It’s clear that Raven interrupted an intense crafting session. The best part is the pile of text books all stacked on top of each other in the corner of Clarke’s room. It was clear studying had been the last thing on her mind.

 

Immediately she starts gathering up her supplies, moving everything to her desk or another corner. “You don’t have to stop on my account,” Raven shrugs. She sits on the edge of Clarke’s bed, partially because she didn’t know what to do with herself and partially because her right leg was starting to do that spasming thing again.

 

Clarke looks up from where she was crouched on the floor, trying to shove a rainbow of paint tubes into a case. “Watching me draw would hardly be fun for you,” Clarke answers and Raven can feel just how much she wants to keep at what she’d been doing. It was due to a lack of effort to convince Raven otherwise, but her desire outweighed her acting abilities. “I could draw you, if you want I mean.”

 

She offers the idea before Raven can just reassure her to carry on as she was. “I don’t…” she starts because she didn’t like the idea of someone’s eyes fixed on her like that or the outcome she might have to look at in the end. She knew how she looked. Sunken in eyes, a crease in her brow, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a stance that was never quite natural. She didn’t really need it copied onto paper.

 

“Please? I actually really wanted to work on living stills.”

 

Raven hates her. She hates that she has blue eyes that are so descriptive and easily readable. She hates her for having wants like working on living stills. She hates her because she _should_ and yet she doesn’t. “I guess.” At least she wouldn’t be ruining her night as she’d first worried.

 

There’s not even a full second before Clarke’s face brightens. “Do you want pyjamas to change into first? The first thing I do after I get home is take off my clothes,” she explains, already walking to her drawers.

 

No way in hell was she going through the effort, and potential embarrassment that went with changing her clothes. “I’m good,” she says before Clarke can hunt any further. “These are my comfy jeans.”

 

Unlike Wick, Clarke doesn’t ask if she’s sure. She just sits back down on the floor, crossing her legs beneath her. “Can you sit over there?” she asks, pointing directly across from her. “You can use my desk to lean against.

 

Suddenly aware of her awkward strides, Raven takes two steps over to the desk and considers how she’s going to make this as easy as possible. She wasn’t used to needing to sit on the floor unless she was working on her rocket or maybe once or twice with Wick, she didn’t realise until now that she didn’t worry about how she moved around him anymore. She bends her right leg, using it to lower herself to the ground and her hands meeting the floor to help. Her left leg is awkward and straight but it’s over in a few seconds. She sits with her back against the desk, left leg straight out in front of her and her right curled, foot resting against her other knee.  “This okay?” she asks but Clarke’s already got her nose in an art set, comparing the sizes between two different pieces of charcoal.

 

“Here,” Clarke picks up her phone and doesn’t warn Raven before tossing it in her direction. “Pick out something to listen to. The 8tracks app is pretty good.”

 

Thankfully she catches the device even though it’d been heading for the desk instead of Raven. It was a bit obvious why Clarke had stayed away from sports in high school. She slides it open, grateful that it was an iPhone like Octavia had. She was familiar with how to work it. The apps are all tucked away into boxes, organised in ways that Octavia had never managed. She finds the one labelled music and opens it, finding the app Clarke had mentioned.

 

“Just pick a tag or two and click on anything that looks decent,” she instructs, fingers starting to move across the page.

 

There’s a bunch of options that pop up, indie and alternative and sad, along with a few different artists like Mumford and Sons or Marina and the Diamonds. She clicks on throwbacks, figuring she’ll know more from there than anywhere else. The first one that pops up is a picture of a sun with additional tags like happy and fun. She clicks on it and “Walking on Sunshine” comes pouring out of the speaker across the room.

 

It wasn’t too loud so Clarke still only spoke at normal volume as she said, “Nice choice. Can you look up and to the left for a second?”

 

Raven does, feeling even more on display than she’d thought she would. She holds her position regardless and tries to think of something other than how terrible this experience was. Of course her mind falls to Wick and another sting of guilt rolls through her. “Would it be alright if I used your phone?” she asks, feeling more than a little awkward at the request but it wasn’t like there were a ton of other options exactly. “Just to send a text.”

 

“Go for it,” Clarke answers, her hands impressively steady as she drew a series of small lines.

 

It takes Raven a minute to find the right number; it was saved as ‘Raven’s friend’ for crying out loud, but she clicks on it and then chooses to write a new text message. She clicks on the bar and watches the solid line blink tauntingly in front of her. She didn’t exactly know what to say. She must remain like that for a while because Clarke interrupts her thoughts to say, “Hey just stare at me for like a second…okay great, thanks.”

 

Eventually she writes the few words in a rush, her thumbs sloppy and unfamiliar with the touch screen so she keeps going back to correct misspelled words.

 

**Clarke:** It’s Raven. I’m fine. Don’t worry.

 

The phone interrupts the song to start singing out Clarke’s ring tone. She looks up and assesses that it’s not for her before going back to her work. “You can answer, if you want,” she offers.

 

“I’m good,” Raven replies, waiting for the ringing to stop and the music to resume. Another minute later and another text comes through.

 

**Raven’s friend:** Would’ve been nice to know before I went out driving in the damn snow

 

She flinches, his irritation obvious even through written words. He had every right to be pissed but it wasn’t like she’d asked him to go looking for her. (She knows that’s not fair but she doesn’t really care).

 

**Raven’s friend:** I’m glad you’re okay though. Call me if you need me to come pick you up. Do you want me to go check on your mom?

 

Her heart stutters in a way that isn’t entirely familiar and she feels everything, inside and out, crumble for a brief second. Sure it was nice that he didn’t seem mad at her and as well that he was willing to pick her up. What truly wore her down was his knowledge of what was sitting heavily on her mind right now. As well as his willingness to potentially put himself in danger just to ease her anxieties.

 

When she had kissed him tonight it had been because she was so overwhelmed with everything, every emotion from fear to sadness to joy. It had all built up inside of her and she couldn’t think or breathe or reason, all she could do was act. And the only action she wanted had been instinctual and stupid and desperate. Despite how much she regretted it now, hiding away in Clarke Griffins’ room while her damn face was being sketched out, she would probably do it all over again if he was in front of her. (She hates what he does to her but she also really kind of likes it.)

 

**Clarke:** No. Too dangerous.

 

**Raven’s friend:** Can I call you?

 

**Clarke:** No

 

She doesn’t bother to add the ‘too dangerous.’ That part was only a danger to her.

 

It takes her a minute but she figures out how to delete the messages and does, setting Clarke’s phone down next to her and looking up, trying to be a good model for half a second.

 

The door comes swinging open, Clarke’s dad carrying a basket full of laundry and singing wholeheartedly along to ‘My Girl’ as it played through the speaker. Raven jumps, startled and a little bit frightened if she was being honest. “Your mom’s gonna make you start using the laundromat if you keep leaving your shit in the dryer,” he announces, dumping the basket upside down onto her bed, a rainbow of shirts, socks, and underwear come tumbling out of it. “Sorry if I scared you, kiddo,” he says in her direction.

 

Raven couldn’t ever remember a time that someone called her ‘kiddo.’

 

“I can use all of the quarters _you_ have to put in the swear jar to pay for the machines,” she says with a shrug.

 

He raises an eyebrow an points a finger in her direction. “Two can play the tattle tailing game if you want to start that,” he warns. He looks from Clarke to Raven and throws his hands in the air, very dramatic. “Don’t tell me you’re making your poor friend sit here while you draw some more. Come downstairs with me and bake, Raven. I swear you’ll have a better time.”

 

There’s nothing suggestive or inappropriate when it comes to his tone or his posture but Raven flinches at the words regardless. They were a little too familiar.

 

“Please, Dad,” Clarke says, properly looking up from her work for the first time. “No one wants to hang out with your Gordon Ramsay self in the kitchen.”

 

“I take offense to that,” he says, heart to his chest and Clarke starts to crack a smile. Raven feels like this banter between them must be normal. “I’m much more of a Barefoot Contessa than a Gordon Ramsay. What do you say? I’ll braid your hair to make this whole sleepover thing worth your while.”

 

“He’s actually an impressive braider,” Clarke says with a pointed look. “Now go away so we can talk about boys and nail polish.” He rolls his eyes and looks mildly rejected as he does turn and walk from the room. “Sorry, he’s a bit of a nut case.”

 

“I heard that!”

 

Raven smiles despite herself. The sadness of what she didn’t have was competing with the humour and happiness of seeing what Clarke did. “It’s alright, he seems…” Safe, she thinks. “Fun.”

 

Clarke snorts. “Fun is definitely the right word. Hm, can you look to the right?”

 

She does as instructed, casting a glance at Clarke’s cell phone as she does. It wasn’t like there was much Wick would have to say back to her but she wanted to talk to him anyway. Maybe it was her guilt and maybe it was just because she’d gotten used to having him there. Either way, she wasn’t about to text him again. “So what does your dad do?” Raven asks, expecting some quirky, crazy career. He was probably like, a volcanologist or a horse exerciser.

 

“Engineer,” Clarke says, looking away long enough to roll her eyes. “No one knows how two left-brained people ended up with such a right-brained child.”

 

Not exactly where Raven’s mind had gone but she goes with it, storing away the engineer information for later. He might be willing to help Wick get a better job somewhere down the road. “Well you’re pre-med. That’s pretty left-brained.”

 

She sighs, bites her lip and keeps sketching. “I’m not exactly voluntarily pre-med,” she says, willing to offer the information but clearly unsure if she should or not. “There was a fair amount of pressure contributed. Also financial threats.”

 

“Oh,” Raven answers. Abby and Jake certainly seemed like the ‘follow your dreams’ and ‘reach for the stars’ sort of people. Then again, maybe their idea of the stars were different from Clarke’s. “So you don’t want to be a doctor?”

 

It wasn’t the sort of problem Raven could necessarily relate to, but she understood that just because people’s problems were lesser than hers didn’t mean they didn’t matter. “Hell no.” She looks up and Raven thinks she’s studying her to gauge a reaction or read what she was thinking. After a minute when she goes back to the paper she realises it was just her figuring out where to go with her drawing. “I wanted to be an art major, work on my own stuff and maybe get a degree in restoration or something.” Her casual shrug suggests she hadn’t given it much thought. Her specific words alluded otherwise.

 

“Your mom said no?” The conversation didn’t fit in with the model of the Griffin family Raven had created. They didn’t seem like the family to fight or argue or even where parents ruled the roost. She had imagined some diplomatic shit where everyone holds the talking stick and explains their point.

 

“Along with a few other colourful words,” Clarke says, her eyebrows raising and a humourless laugh falling past her lips for half a second. “They were both livid that I’d even applied to Fine Arts directed colleges.”

 

It was a personal question but Raven plunged forward anyway. “Did you get in?”

 

This time when she looks up she’s meeting her eyes and she smiles even though the rest of her face is sad. “Yeah, I did.”

 

Raven realises on the carpet of Clarke Griffin’s bedroom that even when you had everything you still didn’t always get what you want.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

\------------------------------------------

 

It’s quite some time before Clarke finishes. Their conversation officially ended after discussing Clarke’s ruined college plans. “Done,” she finally announces, looking up at Raven with a barely there smile and holding out the thick paper.

 

Raven leans forward and takes it, feeling the stretch deep in her leg. The paper is rough and textured between her fingertips and she rubs it between them to appreciate the feeling. With a bit of trepidation she flips the picture over, more than a little surprised with the image she finds.

 

For years Raven had always thought colour was one of the most important elements of art. Tonight she discovers how entirely wrong she’d been. It’s a full body sketch and Raven’s eyes are first drawn to the brace on her leg, it was slimmer here than she ever thought it looked in real life. The folds of her clothes enhanced how skinny she looked as she pans up, seeing the lack of curve there was to her stomach or breasts. Her arms were mildly toned and it makes her look over at them now, the short sleeved shirt revealing the outline of a bicep she hadn’t known was there. What surprises her most is definitely her face, though.

 

Loose strands from her ponytail frame it. The angle it’s drawn at only reveals one ear the left side of her face in slight shadow. She doesn’t look as frail as she feels nor does she appear as malnourished as she knows she is. Instead she takes one look in the eyes of the girl on the page and sees nothing but steely determination, a slight bit of anger, and a fraction of worry, expressed in the nearly imperceptible lines by her eyebrows. Her lips are full but fixed. Not in a frown or a smile, just straight and as prepared for battle as she constantly felt.

 

It may be stupid, but she valued the fact that someone else saw her in the way that she felt. It wasn’t that she necessarily wanted the whole world to see how determined she was to keep going or the anger that was always hidden just beneath the surface or the worry that was constantly in the back of her mind. But she was glad that even if all of that came shining through, the one thing she didn’t see was a single line was weakness. She looked fierce and that was exactly what Raven Reyes intended to be.

 

“Do you like it?” Clarke asks and for the first Raven sees a little insecurity, a touch of doubt, even a lack of self-confidence. For the first time she sees the girl she would bet anything Finn fell in love with. He was obsessed with protecting and building and encouraging. Clarke had been his new project when Raven had been too weak to go on.

 

She looks down at the picture again and wonders for the first time if maybe she’d actually been too strong. “It’s perfect.”

 

Clarke smiles and Raven does too. After all, she didn’t always have to be fierce.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Clarke had pulled Raven into her queen size bed sometime after two in the morning. (“Don’t be stupid. Why would you sleep on the floor? I’m bi, Raven, not a predator.” “I’m not worried about that.” “Then what is there to worry about?”) So she got in but she didn’t change her clothes and she didn’t take off her brace. They weren’t _that_ close.

 

Overall Clarke seemed pretty good at sticking to her side. Raven lies on her back and stares up at the faint glow of stick on moons and stars that cluttered the ceiling. They were clearly old but Raven found a new sort of pleasure in them.

 

As soon as the lights went off she swore to herself that there would be no secrets revealed tonight. She zipped her lips after a, “Goodnight, Clarke,” and didn’t intend to open them until morning.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were the one who ran the red light?” she asks after only mere minutes because Abby’s words sit so heavy on her mind and she tries with all her might not to blame Clarke, but if she’d just been paying attention he would still be here. He might not be hers, but he would at least be here.

 

“I did,” she whispers back after a moment. She had almost wished Clarke had been asleep and this conversation didn’t have to happen. Somewhere along the way Clarke had become some semblance of a friend. She didn’t know why and she didn’t entirely understand how it had lasted through everything, but a part of Raven still wanted to believe the best of this girl. “I told you that night in the waiting room. I said it was my fault. You…you did too.”

 

“That’s not the same,” Raven argues, fire mixed in their somewhere with the moisture that clogged her throat and nose and eyes all at once. She tried to never remember that night. She did her best to forget the way Bellamy held her when she fell. She forced the images of Finn’s broken body being wheeled to the operating room away. She ignored the voice of the doctor saying they did everything they could but…

 

Clarke sniffles and Raven resents her for finding pain in the memories that Raven so clearly claimed as her own to suffer through. “Everyone told me it was the other guy who ran the light.”

 

“They were trying to protect me, I guess.”

 

If only there had been someone around to protect Finn. She bite the words back.

 

“I don’t deserve it.”

 

At least it’s not her secrets being spilled tonight, Raven figures. “I’m sorry, Raven. I thought you knew.” The happy Griffin household feels dark and grim once more. “And I’m sorry, Raven. That I killed him.”

 

It takes a lot out of her to say, “You didn’t kill him.”

 

It probably takes an equal amount from Clarke to say, “Lexa says I did.”

 

Raven didn’t know a whole lot about Lexa. She knew her and Clarke had been best friends. She knew they dated for a while after Clarke had broken it off with Finn, and she knew that Lexa was a gymnast. “Well then she’s a shitty friend,” Raven says with a shrug of her shoulder. You don’t say that stuff even if it is true. Not to the people who needn’t suffer anymore. As much as Raven blamed and hated and resented Clarke Griffin, she saw no need for her to suffer further.

 

“It’s true. At least in part.”

 

There isn’t much to say. She can’t argue. Not when she believes the same. “Well then,” Raven sighs, rolling on her side and finding Clarke in the darkness. This is the most intimate their friendship has ever been and probably as much as it will ever be. “I forgive you.”

 

“Raven…”

 

“No.” It was hard enough to say. She didn’t need Clarke convincing her she shouldn’t. “You’re forgiven. And forgiveness means you’re absolved of guilt.” That might not mean the truth but it’s what she decides. It’s what she decides while the stars glow steadily above and the earth spins constantly below. It’s what she decides when she considers who her mother might be, or not be at all, come morning time. She decides because she might have a lot of guilt to carry around and she knows that she’ll need forgiveness and she knows she won’t be able to accept it even when it is offered to her. “So stop crying over Finn Collins and you’re mistakes and move the fuck on.”

 

“It’s not that easy.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Raven says and she rolls over to face the wall, blocking out the stars and Clarke and the sadness. “If I can forgive you then you can sure as hell forgive yourself.”

 

Clarke doesn’t argue again.

 

Raven falls asleep and she doesn’t dream about guns or her mom or broken bodies. She does dream and she doesn’t really remember what happens in the morning. (She does remember that Wick was there, but that isn’t important).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this chapter may not have been exactly what most of you wanted. There was an original draft of this where Wick got to Raven before she had left and some stuff happened but none of it felt right. In the end this is the chapter I went with and I actually really love it. I would love to hear what you guys think about Clarke and Raven's tenuous relationship and what you think about her running away as she did. Also, that episode tonight...damn. I am loving this season so much lol. Anyway, it's a long one so thanks to those of you who read all the way to the end!


	32. Words I Never Meant to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick is frustrated and says the wrong damn thing.

**Wick’s POV**

The moment that Wick feels his phone buzz he immediately pulls over, his heart beating fast that it was someone, _anyone,_ promising him that Raven was somewhere safe. His heart rate somehow manages to climb even further when he sees that it is in fact Raven texting him. And then in one fell swoop all of his frantic worry transitions to frustration. An undercurrent of anger hovers somewhere in the back of his mind as well though he does his best to suppress it. He wasn’t mad at her for being at Clarke’s except that maybe he was a bit. After all, Raven barely even liked Clarke half the time, in fact Clarke thought she hated her. So how exactly had Raven managed to end up there of all places?

 

He sends his bitchy little text and then regrets it because Wick knows Raven. He knows she’s too consumed by her fear and her ridiculous need to constantly show off her strength. He knows that she’s too worried about her mom and her emotional stability to be worried about him. And fair enough, maybe, but it still really sucked to have the girl you’ve been dreaming about for the last three months give you a hell of a kiss and then decide the snowy streets of Newark Delaware were better than your apartment.

 

She doesn’t exactly warm up after his next texts but Wick decides to just be grateful she’d had the decency to contact him at all.

 

He goes home and gets in bed and tries really fucking hard not to think about her all night.

 

He fails.

 

\-------------------------------

 

The following night Wick suffocates in the lab. Monty is there and he keeps giggling every five damn minutes while his phone goes off every ten damn seconds and tonight might just be the night that Kyle Wick snaps.

 

If February 15th didn’t have enough reason to suck already, this weirdness between him and Raven sure as hell added to it. So far 1 hour of this awful day had rolled away. He wasn’t looking forward to the next 23.

 

It may not be true, but that doesn’t prevent Wick from feeling as though he can’t move. Like Raven has a monopoly over the rest of the hospital and he doesn’t have a right to intrude on her space, just in case she’s actually not at her desk or on the sixth floor. She needs space, and he has no choice but to offer it to her in the form of an entire damn hospital.

 

So he drums his fingers on the desk and he scrolls through a million articles on his phone and he even calls around, asking if anyone cared for an engineer to do some engineering. He must get on Monty’s nerves just as bad because he finally says, “Don’t you have an admitting registrar to hit on?”

 

Wick shoots him a look that feels furious but probably just looks sad. “Don’t you have a boyfriend to sext?”

 

“Our conversation is entirely PG, for your information,” Monty defends, pocketing his phone and turning to the samples he’d been cooling for the past few minutes. “But at least my pining got me somewhere.”

 

It’s a little too late and he’s a lot too irritated to deal with this right now. “Fuck off.”

 

“Whoa, dude, chill,” he puts his empty hand up, test tube still clutched in the other. “Raven already holds the torch for cranky pain in the ass. You can’t join in.” That makes Wick pout like a two year old because Monty’s right. Raven has already staked her claim as that member of the group. He was supposed to be the happy-go-lucky guy without a care in the world and a flawless smile. “Did you two have a fight?” Monty asks and Wick can’t tell if he’s trying to be mocking or is genuinely sympathetic. “We can hug it out if you need. No shame.”

 

Wick doesn’t bother with anything more than a glare in his direction before he gets up and leaves. He was not in the mood for mocking _or_ sympathy it turns out.

 

Barely ten fucking steps later and who else would turn the corner than Raven Reyes herself. For the last two hours and twelve minutes he had been containing himself to a room in order to avoid stepping on her toes and it would just so happen the second he leaves is the same one when she arrives. “Hey there, Wrench Monkey,” he says because nothing was quite the same but one thing that was a damn near constant was her hatred of that name.

 

But her usual snarl and glare are missing after he says it. “Hey,” she says instead and it’s weaker than he’s used to and a little sadder than he’d like. (Unless of course she’s just sad that they haven’t kissed again since last night in which case he was very happy that she was sad and would soon rectify it.)

 

“Your mom good?” he asks, because at the end of the day he spends more time worrying about Raven than he does himself.

 

She nods and then she looks down at her twisting hands and back up at him. The silence is heavy in a way that makes him shift from one foot to the other, trying to alleviate some of the burden. “Are we good?” She finally asks, her eyes a little more nervous, her stance a little less sure.

 

The answer is easy. The truth is harder. “Of course.” He thinks about her lips on his and her hands in his hair and his hands on her back and her waist and… “Always.”

 

She smiles, just for one second and then she looks like she’s prepared for battle. She looks like he remembers from when they first met.

 

With a nod she turns back to where she came.

 

He doesn’t go after her.

 

\-----------------------------------------------

 

It’s 6:58 in the morning and he’s standing at the top of the stairs, unsure if he’s rushing down them to come strolling out to the front desk with an easy smile and his keys in hand. Or he could walk to the other side of the hospital, go down to the ED and leave out the ambulance entrance. It was closer to the employee parking lot anyway.

 

To help him decide he pulls out his phone and checks the temperature. Ever since the snow storm Saturday night it had warmed a few degrees, staying above freezing most of the time. This morning it was already inching towards forty degrees despite the early hour. The phone goes back to sleep as he presses the button and Wick takes the steps down two at a time. Why the hell would he let his friend walk home after working all night? He practically jogs his way to the admitting desk, nodding towards the labor and delivery nurses he passes by on his way.

 

At 7:01 he busts through the door. Jasper is sitting at the desk already and Wick worries that he’s missed her. She stands from the chair across the desk and gives him a tired, easy smile. “You’re late.”

 

“Oh please,” he says, already throwing his hands in the air as he points towards Jasper. “He’s late every damn day which means _you_ are always making me late.” It occurs to him only now that there was a chance he could have driven home without her and she would have been sitting here, waiting. Not for the first time Wick is reminded that their friendship was not just about closeness and companionship and enjoying each other’s company. She relied on him and it was his job not to let her down.

 

Raven narrows her eyes at him and says, “As if you have anywhere better to be.”

 

Jasper looks at Wick with a curious expression and he has a pretty good idea that Monty had already texted him and told him to be gentle with Raven because she and Wick were fighting. Jokes on them.  They were fine… At least in this exact moment they were.

 

Normally he would toe the boundaries and shrug and say, ‘you’re right, I don’t.’ But today he knows that he needs to add an extra inch or two to their usual wall, just to make Raven feel a little bit safer. “My bed actually sounds pretty damn good.”

 

With an eyebrow raise and a smirk she completely blows him away as she says, “You know as well as I do it’s better with me in it.” She turns and walks towards the front door before he’s even reacted.

 

The one thing he does take in is Jasper’s unhinged jaw. “Get yourself together,” Wick says in a huff as he goes after her. The words were more fitted for his racing heart than his slack jawed friend. Of all the behaviours he’d been expecting of her _this_ was rather low on the list.

 

Her mixed signals are giving him whiplash and he isn’t sure how he feels about it. Kyle Wick wasn’t one for playing games. After all, he had played them in the past and they never worked out well. There was something about heartbreak that wasn’t appealing to him, and games always inevitably lead to heartbreak.

 

“Can I drive?” she asks, hopeful brown eyes and the beginning of a smile when he catches up to her.

 

“Not too tired?” he asks because he has a hard enough time staying awake some days and Raven had a knack for falling asleep in the car.

 

She shakes her head. “I’m good.” He hands over the keys and watches her saunter off, ponytail swinging as she heads for the parking garage.

 

She gets in and turns the engine over, the truck thrumming to life beneath him. “Have you backed out of a spot before?” With half a shrug Raven puts the car in reverse and looks behind her. She bites her lip as she slowly lets the car start rolling back. She goes to turn the wheel but he reaches out, holding it straight. “Not yet,” he says though it’s barely more than a whisper. She eases off of the brake and lets it continue back straight. His hands tug the wheel in his direction when she’s safe to start turning and she takes his cue. “All the way…there you go.”

 

The rest of the process is a little bit slower as she moves inch by inch back, watching the car out of the window and in both mirrors before allowing it to move anymore. After another minute she throws the car into drive and turns the wheel all the way opposite and gives it some gas so it rolls forward.

 

When they get to the main road she takes the route to the grocery store instead of her house and he sighs. “What time do you get off?”

 

“Four,” she answers, fingers drumming on the steering wheel and her foot is heavier on the brake and gas today than it had been her first night. She’s less sure, the adrenaline replaced by anxiety.  “You don’t need to pick me up.”

 

“Can we skip this?” he asks, reaching forward and shutting off the barely there radio. Even the background noise was too much. This deafening silence was enough.

 

“Skip what?” she bites out and he knows she’s well aware what he’s talking about.

 

“This awkward, oh we kissed and now we fail to be two functioning humans together because what does this mean and can we even move past it, bullshit.”

 

She swallows heavily as she turns into the empty grocery store parking lot. Her parking job is less than ideal, but it doesn’t really matter at this time in the morning. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Fine,” he agrees, giving up because dealing with this was hard enough without putting up a fight. “We don’t have to talk about it, but we do have to get over it.”

 

There’s a beat of silence before she asks, “Why?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Why do we have to get over it?” Wick doesn’t know if she’s asking because she wants to hear the right answer or if she’s asking because she truly doesn’t see the point.

 

“Do you _like_ stilted silence and not being able to make fucking eye contact?” he asks with the same irritation and anger from Saturday night rising to the surface all over again. She was so frustrating sometimes. And he was so tired of feeling like he was being shit on. Because sure, she relied on him, but he needed something in return. He couldn’t just give like this forever, not without at least some participation on her end. Everything he had done for her, all of the damn times he’d proven himself, and she still treated him like this. Not for the first time he doubts that she trusts him and it stings because he has done every fucking thing he can to prove himself and she’s constantly rubbing it in his face that it just isn’t enough.

 

Raven clears her throat and it reminds him that she might be a pain in the ass, but losing his temper wouldn’t solve anything. “Do you care about being friends or have I just been deluding myself for four months now?” He asks the question and he hates the way it stings on the way out and he hates the life he’s breathing to these damn insecurities. “Does our relationship mean anything or am I just your taxi service?” These words are not the ones he meant to say but the others one are too real and too hurtful and this is so obviously not the truth that it just falls from his lips without effort.

 

She turns towards him violently, her eyes are broken for a fraction of a second before they are a mirror of the anger in his own. “That’s not fair.”

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding anything but. “I meant am I nothing more than the person you shit on for trying to fix your useless fucking rocket? Which, by the way, is illegal. Or maybe I’m just your driving instructor.”

 

“You know that’s not…”

 

“Not what, Raven?” he asks, trying to find an appropriate level to his voice. He tries to find the patience that she just loves to whittle away at.

 

Waiting for her answer is almost as agonizing as watching her walk out his front door last night had been. “I’m not using you.”

 

Her voice is a little bit broken and he’s reminded of the girl who stood sobbing in his living room because she wasn’t loved enough and how he had promised that he would fix that.

 

“Then stop acting like it.”

 

She throws the keys in his direction and gets out of his truck. He doesn’t stop her.

 

When she disappears into the store he doesn’t wait for her to come back and he doesn’t follow in after her.

 

He’s boiling over with anger the whole way home. Her ponytail holder still sits on his coffee table, and he hates the reminder it brings along with the flash of guilt that runs through him.

 

He throws it in the trash and for the first time in months he takes a minute to consider what he deserves above what it is that Raven needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I know you hate me. Yes I know this moment may seem slightly OOC for the Wick we are used to reading from. And also, fun little tidbit, this angst was never actually intended in my original plan. So...forgive me but don't persecute me just yet. Sorry I'm not doing great at replying to reviews currently. I'm really just trying my best to stay on top of writing (and failing miserably at it) I promise to do so soon. Anyway, let me knows your thoughts, even if they aren't as nice as usual! Have a great week everyone :)


	33. Circulate the Right Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven remains fierce

**Raven’s POV**

Raven spends her whole shift absolutely fuming. She snaps at co-workers and glares at her manager and doesn’t bother asking a single damn customer if they want paper or plastic.

 

Her leg screams and her head aches and her heart splinters apart with just the slightest prodding.

 

The worst part about the whole terrible exachange? Wick was right.

 

Saturday night had been entirely unfair for him. While she’d been off running away from the only place she’d truly had to run to, he was just trying to run towards her. As she’d been busy posing for a friend and learning about herself and forgiving for the both of them; he’d been worrying. He was worrying about her and her mom and her safety. She offered him a text message with no promise of a later or a more. She kissed him like she knew he wanted and then she took off because she couldn’t deal. Not with the hurt from her mom and certainly not with the look in his eyes and the static in his hands and the flushing of his face. (And most definitely not with the guilt coming from a boy who was six feet under.)

 

But he’d been ready to deal with all of it. He would have dealt with all of her right then and there if she’d asked him to. God she was a shattered mess and he was just constantly there, waiting to put her back together with the sort of precision she’d forgotten could even exist.

 

The problem was that maybe she didn’t want to be put back together. So much of her would have to be broken all over again, like a bone that had healed the wrong way, that the pure velocity of the project left her feeling naked and empty and completely bare to him.

 

He said he loved her and she repaid him by breaking his heart.

 

But then she forgets to consider Wick and she just gets mad at what he had said to her all over again. Who cares if he was right? She might be fierce, but she was also weak. He didn’t have the right to break her down without her permission.

 

Of course today is the day that Bellamy decides to show up, and not even with food at that. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” she growls as soon as he’s close enough to hear. The customer she’s scanning groceries for looks up in surprise and she waves them off with the can of soup in her hand.

 

“It’s Presidents Day, Raven,” he tells her leaning obnoxiously against her counter. “We’ve been given the day off to reflect on how so many old white men before us have managed to oppress the minorities and make the dumbest damn rules that have caused our country to be not only the most hated, but also the most mocked. It’s a joyous occasion.”

 

The lady she’s checking out shoots him an obscene look and Raven bets her entire life savings (yes, it may be about twelve dollars at this point) that she’s a God fearing Republican who had a pro-life bumper sticker on the back of her car and a husband with a poorly locked away gun. “Ignore him,” Raven says, offering her first smile of the day to prevent getting reported. “He’s a democrat,” she whispers it and rolls her eyes as if she thought he was insane.

 

It smooths things over well enough. “I just had to play Republican to save your ass,” she says, pointing an accusing finger in his face once the lady is gone.

 

He laughs, “It was your own ass you saved.” He’s right but she doesn’t acknowledge it. For a minute she suspects that somehow word has gotten around already that her and Wick had gotten into it. Be it Saturday night, Clarke was sure to have told Bellamy about their impromptu sleepover, or today. Maybe Wick had gone home and group messaged the guys, bitching about how much she _used_ him. Her rage flared again “You could have warned me, you know.”

 

“What?” Raven asks, leaving this morning behind yet again as she directs her attention to Bellamy. Thankfully there was a lull in customers. She wasn’t up to multi-tasking today. The look on his face answers the question. “She told you?” Raven wasn’t exactly upset that Octavia hadn’t waited for her to be present.

 

With a heavy sigh Bellamy says, “Yeah,” his body heavier than a minute before. “I guess I should have seen it coming. She’s too damn much like our mom.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Raven whispers. Octavia’s mom was better than hers, not that it took much, but there had always been so much resentment. Octavia blamed her mom for a lack of a father. She hated how much the woman worked and how often she was away. Octavia wanted nothing more than to be just what her mother was not in every way possible. It would break her in two if she thought her brother considered her no better than the mother who always tried so hard but was always seen as a failure through her daughter’s eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

 

He shakes his head, looks to the floor for answers that he doesn’t seem to have. “Maybe I do.” A shrug, a quirk of his head as he looks back at her. “I remember our mom in ways she doesn’t. I remember the way she used to look at the world with excited eyes and sing and dance to all of the songs on the radio. I remember how she used to blow on Octavia’s belly to make her laugh and read to me every night. She loved us so damn much.” He clears his throat and his smile is bitter and she remembers not for the first time that she isn’t the only friend in their group who was let down. “But we stopped being so new and shiny and there were men to keep her company and a bottle to hold her hand. I don’t want…”

 

Raven nods because she knows what it’s like to come to the realisation that love isn’t always enough.

 

“Octavia hasn’t used in over a year now,” she reminds him, steely determination in her voice. “Almost two for Lincoln.” She fixes Bellamy with a stare as she turns away and leans against the empty station. He stands up straight to meet her gaze. “You don’t get to pin her past mistakes on her like they’ll make up her future. And you definitely don’t get to use your mom as a blue print for the person Octavia is going to be.”

He shakes his head and she’s reminded of his weariness right now. It was news he wasn’t prepared for, one more thing he now had to protect and worry about. “I just wanted things to run smoothly for like a year. Was that so much to ask?”

 

She covers his bare hand that was splayed against the cool metal with her own. She’d learned a long time ago that things didn’t run smooth, especially not when you wanted them to. “Yes,” she says, her voice and tone as serious as she could make them, holding her gaze just a little too close against his until he cracks a smile, the heaviness getting to be too much.  


“Damn it, Raven,” he says as he pulls his hand out from under hers and runs it through his hair. “I’m trying to sulk and you look stupid when you make that face.”

 

With a shrug she turns back to the belt, greeting the customer with a smile and trying not to groan out loud at the pile of coupons he was pulling out. “Get over yourself,” she says. The moments between them never stayed heavy for long. They had other people for that sort of stuff. They needed each other to find some light. “Besides, you know you’re excited to be an uncle.”

 

With a bit of effort Bellamy doesn’t smile. “I’m gonna be mad a while longer before I enjoy the idea of being an uncle to my teenage sister’s illegitimate child.”

 

She smirks. “You’re just jealous you aren’t the one having an illegitimate child…with Clarke.” She laughs really hard when his expression goes from contemplative to furious. He shoves his middle finger high in the air as he walks from the store. “I’m sure she’d be game!” she shouts before he disappears through the automatic doors. He throws up his other middle finger for good measure.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Four pm finally rolls around and Raven genuinely hopes that Wick knows better than to be sitting outside the door when she gets off. As far as she was concerned, he could go to hell and fuck himself in the ass on the way there.

 

She walks outside and her eyes automatically go to the fire zone where he always sat and waited for her. It’s empty and she’s walking away, eyes having completely skipped right over the fact that he wasn’t in his truck, but standing outside in the cold with his hands in his pockets and a pathetic look on his face.

 

“Listen, Raven-” he’s starting before she’s totally registered that he’s even there.

 

“Save it,” she barks out, her footsteps rushed and her hands shoved in her pockets. It wasn’t even that cold but it was better than punching him in the face which is what she wanted to do with them. “You must not have gotten the memo. I cancelled my membership with Douche Taxi.”

 

“I was an ass,” he says and Raven is glad that at least he’s self-aware. “I know that, okay? And I-“

 

“No!” she shouts, stopping dead in her tracks and turning the best she can on him. The snow is slippery and she would be so pissed if all her angry momentum was lost by her falling on her ass right now. “It’s not okay, Wick. Not one damn thing that happened this morning was okay.”

 

“Fine! I get that!” he yells back and now they’re just two crazy people shouting on the sidewalk outside of a grocery store. “But what happened Saturday night wasn’t okay either. What happened was fucked up, Raven.”

 

“Did you get your feelings hurt?” she asks, her tone mocking and cruel and unfair. “’Cause guess what, Wick? I don’t care.”

 

“That’s hardly fair,” he says in a bitter tone.

 

She huffs a sigh and makes a point to look away, staring off at the line of cars driving by and biting the inside of her cheek.  “Fine, you want to talk about the damn kiss? Go for it!” She pulls her hands out of her pockets for the first time, throwing them in the air to signal he should go right ahead.

 

“Raven…”

 

“No. No, what do you want to talk about, Wick? Do you want to talk about how I _used_ you as a shoulder to cry on beforehand? Or maybe how you were spouting out love confessions that you didn’t mean. Or how I ran away afterwards. Or maybe you want to talk about how it tasted like fortune cookie and felt like fire in your lungs and ice in your veins and how it seemed right but it _wasn’t_.” She shouts through clenched teeth and with words that break the more she says them. She goes from fierce to broken in seconds. “Do you want to talk about how I’m too fucked up to love someone and how my dead boyfriend was the last person I kissed before you and the only thing I could think about afterwards and how I thought you were my friend, but now you’re acting like I owe you something.” She swallows the lump in her throat and fixes her stare on him, trying to remember what it was like to have fire in your heart instead of a pit in your stomach. “Friends don’t keep score.”

 

“I didn’t mean it,” he finally says, looking like he was bleeding out from her words alone. “It’s not even true!”

 

She shakes her head and shoves her hands back deep into the pockets of her jacket. “But you still said it.” That was all that really mattered. He knew what it would do to her. He knew exactly how those words would strike and reverberate and destroy. And he had said them anyway.  “You were trying to hurt me and it worked. Deal with it.”

 

This time when she starts walking off he lets her go.

 

She tries to convince herself that she doesn’t want him to stop her one more time.

 

She’s crying before she’s even hit the one mile mark. Kyle fucking Wick.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

Octavia’s room is warm. Ever since they were kids Octavia has always hated the cold. She wore two sweatshirts under her winter coat and knee high socks in the spring. She took showers that were like molten lava and was always that girl who stuck their freezing cold hands on someone’s warm back in an attempt heat them.

 

Even so she’s still huddled in a pile of blankets, her books open around her but none actually being used. “Hey,” Raven says, pulling off her jacket and laying it over the computer chair. “Your mom let me in.”

 

A smile brightens her face and she gathers the books together, throwing them unceremoniously to the floor. “I’m tired. Lay in bed with me.”

 

Raven smiles and works to get her boots off. She sits on the edge of the bed and quickly unstraps her brace. It had been caged up for way too long and the pain was getting less instead of more. She lays down on top of the covers and stares up at the ceiling, the fan above her was motionless, though Raven thought maybe some circulation might be nice. “Is the tired a baby thing or a normal thing?” she asks as Octavia nudges herself closer.

 

She lay on her side and her face was mere inches from Raven’s cheek. “I think it’s a, I finally told my big brother I got knocked up and now all my muscles are like jelly without all that tension holding them together.” Raven smiles and lets her head fall to the side so that Octavia’s forehead pressed against the hairline by her eye. “I think this is the most I’ve seen of you since I came back.” Since Finn died. Since Raven had to get a second job. Since she’d dropped out of school. “It’s nice.”

 

Wick had reminded her how nice it was to have people that care about you. She remembered all of the people who already did. “Yes,” she agrees, eyes slipping shut as the warmth embraces her and Octavia throws an arm across her. “It’s really nice.”

 

When she wakes up it’s dark and Octavia is snoring in her ear, a leg thrown over her and half of her hair in Raven’s face. She’d always been a clingy sleeper.

 

She thinks about getting up and going home. Her mom was all alone or in danger or freezing or…

 

But then she remembers what used to make her happy when she was younger and she wonders how she ever forgot. It was these people and their homes and their warm hugs and gentle jokes. For whatever reason she had run away from it all like it had never been hers to begin with. She’s relieved to discover it was still there now that she wanted to come back.

 

With a light shove she pushes Octavia off of her and rolls onto her side. Sleep pulls her back under with ease and she sleeps until mid-morning. The sunlight streams through the upstairs window and Raven’s skin is sticky with sweat. Someone had apparently thrown a blanket over her at some point in the night. The first thing she notices is that Octavia is gone. The next is that there’s a glass of water next to her.

 

She drinks it happily and then moves to strap her brace on once again. She bends and stretches her leg in every exercise she can remember first before hooking it back in and then she goes to Octavia’s bathroom, using the toilet and splashing water on her face in an attempt to wake up more.

 

On the counter she notices little things, like hair ties and the same shade of lip gloss Octavia has religiously stuck to ever since tenth grade. She notices a calendar with days crossed off (in four days Octavia will reach thirteen months sober). She gurgles some mouthwash to make up for the lack of toothbrush and undoes her ponytail to put it up again in a less haphazard manner.

 

She grabs her jacket off the chair and opens the door, listening closely for any signs of life. It’s silent but she still attempts to be quiet on the stairs.

 

There’s little need seeing as the house was empty, a note left on the front door.

 

_No one will be home until late. Help yourself to whatever and feel free to do my laundry in return!_

_xx O_

Raven smiles, taking off her coat in favour of some toaster waffles. There were a million and one reasons why she should probably leave. For the first time in too long she just listens to the one that’s saying why she should stay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know we've kind of hit this angst block when it comes to Raven/Wick for the time being but I hope you guys can kind of see why that is and how it's meant for more than just straight plot progression. So, so, important to me that Raven comes to realise how many people she has that care about her and to not feel like she needs to be relying on only one. But don't fret too much, our dynamic duo won't be at each other's throat forever. Sorry this is late, I think? I don't even know at this point. I have another test in the morning though so everyone leave me nice thoughts below and perhaps I can update again tomorrow if things go well!


	34. Willing to Listen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick faces the consequences of being a dumbass

**Wick’s POV**

He doesn’t sleep once when he gets home from work on Monday morning.

 

First he takes a shower and then he stares forlornly at his bedroom wall. After that there’s some time spent picking at food and more lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. He tries not to think about anything. Not Raven, not his own stupid words, not his parents. He ends up thinking about all of it.

 

Instead of lying in bed and torturing himself further he gets up to work on plans for the rocket, but he realises that he hasn’t done anything on it since she’d stolen the plans off of his coffee table a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know what she’s done with it. He doesn’t even know if she’s still working on it. The words that he’d spat at her about the project sit with him in a way that makes him want nothing more than to wipe the sound from his memory.

 

For a second he looks at the closet, the one stuffed with old belongings and sentimental crap that he hasn’t touched since he had crammed it all in there the day he moved in. Today wasn’t the day to pull it out, he decides. That would just make him hate everything even more.

 

His phone taunts him and he keeps looking at it, as if she would contact him. Of course she wasn’t going to. He didn’t blame her.

 

February 15th sucks balls, he decides as he stares up at his bedroom ceiling. He doesn’t know which sound is louder in his head. The one of cars crashing or the one of a door slamming. He hates them both.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Somehow he knew an apology wasn’t going to get him very far. There was a line that he had crossed with Raven and there was no excuse or ‘I’m sorry’ that could fix it. He tries not to consider the fact that he probably just drove her off for good. All because he’d been selfish and sad and too much in love.

 

He had hurt her. She shouts it right in his face, her cheeks flushed and her eyes fixed and her voice wavering and it remains him all over again at the anger she had felt Saturday night because of her mom. Only this time it wasn’t Raven’s mom who had caused her to bite her lip in an attempt to keep from crying or left her with shaking shoulders and clenched fists. It was entirely him. Wick had done this to her. The fact isn’t one he can dispute and it hits him so much harder than any other ‘woe is me’ thought he’d been entertaining before. It didn’t matter what sort of day today was. It doesn’t make a damn difference if she was reserved and cautious and giving him everything just to take it all away a moment later. None of it is of the least bit importance. All that matters is that she was hurt and it was his fault and he didn’t deserve for her to ever look at him with that light in her eyes or that smile on her face again.

 

The rest of Monday he spends being melodramatic home alone, but Tuesday is another day off and everything is fucked up anyway so he figures, why not go for a drink.

 

For the first time he’s the one inviting everyone else out. A guys only sort of thing, he figures, to save himself the drama of what he was sure would be knowing looks from Clarke and angry glares from Octavia. That is, if Raven had told her friends what a dick he was. If she had, he didn’t really think any of the guys would take him up on his offer either.

 

In the end Jasper is working (which means Raven is not and that is the slightest bit of relief to Wick) and Monty has a raid planned for his online game. Miller says no as soon as Monty says he isn’t going and then it somehow ends up being just Wick and Bellamy. (Lincoln never replies but Wick gets the feeling that he wouldn’t have wanted to come anyway.)

 

Since it’s just the two of them and their actual grown ass adults, they go to a bar. When he gets there the place seems too loud and the people too old, but he doesn’t care that much and finds Bellamy at a stool on the end of the bar.

 

It’s a little dark and Wick is now glad for how loud it is because there wasn’t much noise happening between the two of them. They both order a beer and Bellamy drinks it back like a hard worn veteran and Wick sips at his almost guiltily.

 

“So,” Bellamy says and Wick kind of just nods, as if he agreed with that ‘so.’ They go back to silence.

 

Both of them get a refill. Wick mostly just toys with the napkin his drink sat on.

 

“My little sister’s pregnant.” Bellamy says, draining the last of the liquid from the cup.

 

“I know,” Wick says without thinking. Thankfully Bellamy just laughs.

 

“Was there anyone who didn’t know before me?” he asks, shaking his head.

 

The air is heavy with the scent of perfume and peanuts and Wick finds the smell a little bit suffocating. “I doubt anyone told Monty or Jasper,” he says.

 

“It’d be up on their blog signed off ‘xoxo Gossip Girl’ if someone had,” Bellamy replies with a shake of his head and a hand up for the bartender to fill him up once more.

 

Wick didn’t know if the blog thing was a joke or not but he also didn’t really care enough to ask about it. “Are you pissed?” he asks because he can’t really think of what else to ask. Excited didn’t quite seem like the right word for this situation.

 

“I don’t even know,” he sighs, scratching at the counter top with disinterest. “She’s exhausting to try and take care of. That I do know.” He says it with a sort of chuckle but he sounds too tired for it to be a real laugh.

 

“Lincoln’s a good guy,” Wick says even though he doesn’t really know much about the rather large man. He just saw the way he looked at Octavia. That was enough to decide whether he was decent or not.

 

Bellamy just kind of grunts in response to that and pushes his beer away from him. New subject, Wick decides. “So why did _you_ need to go out and drink on a Tuesday night,” Bellamy asks before Wick has a chance to change the conversation to something lighter.

 

Now it’s his turn to scoff. “Well first my parents died in a car accident three years ago as of yesterday and then because I was pissed off at the world I decided it would be a good idea to turn around and piss off Raven.”

 

Bellamy blows out a harsh breath. “Bad idea,” he says. “Hell hath no fury like Raven Reyes.” He sounds disinterested enough that Wick would not be surprised if someone had told him already.

 

For whatever reason Wick likes that he doesn’t touch on the dead parents thing. Perhaps he sort of liked Bellamy after all.

 

“What’d you do to her?” Well maybe not.

 

With a sigh Wick knocks back a few sloppy drinks of his own beer. “Something awful,” he says, leaning his elbows on the bar and his head in his hands. Every time he thought through the exchange he hated himself all over again. “I essentially accused her of using me.”

 

There’s nothing but silence to answer him so he picks up his head to look in Bellamy’s direction. The look he gets is somewhere between disappointed and pissed. He felt like he did when his dad found out that he’d rear ended someone back in high school and tried to drive away after. “I don’t know if I should kick your ass or let you keep talking,” he gruffs, going back to his drink.

 

“I know,” Wick answers. “I definitely deserve to have my ass kicked.” And then some.

 

“Listen, I have one crazy, pain in the ass little sister and that’s about all I can handle,” Bellamy says, his hand running down the side of his glass and collecting the condensation. “But Raven somehow managed to kind of worm her way in as the second one anyway. She’s been around for years and I know she seems tough and hard core, but she’s fragile and life has been taking a shit on her since she was born pretty much. She doesn’t need someone else adding to what she’s already got against her.”

 

As if that was news. “I was being an idiot. I didn’t mean a word of what I said…and she didn’t deserve it either.”

 

“She deserves someone who will give her the world,” Bellamy says, his eyes glancing to the clock and back to his beer. He pushes it away again. “If you’re willing to do that then you better come back to her ready to prove it. And if you’re not…then take a step back and help in the ways she’ll let you without getting spooked. It’s what the rest of us do and sometimes I think it’s the only thing that keeps her around.”

 

It seemed like sound advice but Wick saw the flaws. He knew what happened when you pushed Raven a little bit too far. He knew how worn down and weary she was. He knew that her tough exterior was slipping by the day. Taking a step back wasn’t what any of them needed to do. Not now. She needed everyone to step up to the plate as much as possible.

 

“But, Kyle?”

 

“Yeah?” he asks, his name unfamiliar coming from someone he barely even knew.

 

“If you fuck with her heart I swear I’ll end you.” It might be a commonplace threat, but Wick could feel the barely hidden rage beneath it. As if Bellamy was already on the brink of destroying Wick, just based off of what he had heard tonight. It made him wonder what sort of damage Bellamy had seen when Finn had broken her heart. It was no wonder he wanted to protect her.

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------

 

Waiting to be forgiven had never been one of Wick’s strong points. He could say he was sorry and admit he was wrong and even get a bit sentimental if he needed to, but he never got very good at handling the fact that he was at someone else’s mercy to be forgiven. As a kid he would say he was sorry to his sister after stealing her Barbie or pulling her hair or, you know, farting on her face, and he figured that was that. But when she got a bit older and realised that when someone said you were sorry didn’t mean you had to accept it? Shit got real.

 

There were a variety of methods that she could use to go about getting her “I’m angry and hate you” stance across. The silent treatment, pretending he didn’t exist, withholding a pretend secret, even once in a while going in and trashing his room (which needed a good cleaning before she even got to it so of course telling his parents got him nowhere because ‘Kyle, your room is never clean. Why would we believe your sister wrecked it? We know you’re just trying to get out of cleaning it.’) That was the most frustrating of all.

 

So he would follow her around the house and do extra chores and write notes with excessive amounts of I’m sorry’s and suck up in any way possible. Until finally the little diva relented and looked at him or spoke to him or revealed that her secret was something stupid like what they were eating for dinner that night. (She never fessed up to destroying his room. She was too clever for that.)

 

Except being at Raven’s mercy for forgiveness was ten times worse. Partially because he fucked up to the point where he probably wouldn’t have forgiven himself and partially because it wasn’t like with his sister. She wouldn’t be forced to see him and live with him and eventually forgive him because their parents intervened. Raven could just decide to hate him forever and that would be that.

 

Worst part is that he can’t even blame her.

 

He considers going to her house and quickly rules that out as a terrible idea. He thinks of the store or cornering her in the hospital or even just waiting it out and trying to see if she would come to him first. He knows she would hate a big gesture, and he knows that there isn’t really anyway to make this up to her. Not when he’s been this big of an ass.

 

It was never really his intention to talk to his aunt about the whole ordeal, but she calls him Thursday night before he goes to work and she’s yammering on about how Sasha got one of her baby teeth knocked out for five minutes before he starts trying to get her off the phone. “Alright, Aunt Mary Ann, I really need to get to work now.”

 

“Hm,” she muses and he knows whatever she asks next isn’t going to be something he likes. “That’s where you know your _friend_ Raven from, isn’t it?”

 

He wonders if she means for the emphasis behind the word friend to be as obvious as it is. “Yes. My friend…I hope.”

 

She tuts and he can see her doing that thing where she juts out her hip and put a hand on it. “What do you mean you hope? You two were adorable together over Christmas.”

 

He sighs, “It’s a long story.”

 

The reaction he expected wasn’t quite of the same calibre as the one he got. “Don’t you it’s a long story me, mister. Not only do you look at her like she’s royalty, she looks at you like you’re the happiest damn thing she’s seen in years. I’ve never seen a person who smiled so little and yet could look so happy. Don’t tell me you ruined that precious girl’s joy now, Kyle.”

 

“Aunt Mary Ann…” he’s not emotionally stable enough for this conversation.

 

“I mean it. She’s beautiful and smart and the most polite house guest I’ve had in years. Don’t tell me she’s not going to be my niece in a few years down the line just because your dumbass couldn’t get your act together and give her what she deserves.”

 

“I said some awful stuff to her. The anniversary of Mom and Dad’s death…I said the sort of thing that someone doesn’t get over.”

 

There’s silence on the other end as his aunt considers what he’s told her. “Well what’d you do that for?”

 

“Because,” he answers, vague and empty and without any actual answer. She doesn’t say anything else and Wick knows she’ll wait forever if she has to. (“I’m retired, it’s not like I have anything better to do.”) “She kissed me and then she took off and I was worried and I love her.”

 

“She doesn’t love you back?”

 

“No. Maybe. I have no fucking clue.”

 

“Language,” she warns. The f-bomb had always been strictly forbidden in her household. “Is that why you said the things you did then, because you’re angry at her for not reciprocating your feelings?”

 

“No! God, no,” he sighs, thinking for the first time how else Raven could have taken his reaction. Dammit. “I never even…I wasn’t looking for that from her. But I already had Mom and Dad on my mind and I was up all night and I just wanted to be angry and lousy and terrible to someone and she was easiest to do that to.”

 

“Why?” her question is soft and leading and gentle.

 

“Because she was there and she’s a pain in the ass sometimes and…I guess I took for granted that our friendship is one built on a hell of a lot of trust and a shit ton of honesty and I lashed out because normally she just gives it right back to me.”

 

“Are you sorry?” she asks him, and now more than ever he feels like a child. “For the things you said to her.”

 

Of course, he thinks. “I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.” Usually he was good for a joke at any given time. He found the lightness and the joy and the easy times no matter what. This situation with Raven had left him far more on the emo, sappy lines than he cared to admit.

 

“Then you go tell her that,” his aunt insists. “You tell her what you told me then.”

 

Easier said than done, he thinks. “If she’ll bother listening.”

 

He can almost feel his aunt’s reassuring cheek pat through the phone. “Trust me, Kyle. Anyone who lights up the way that girl does for you is willing to listen.”

 

For his sake he hopes she’s right.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

When he walks through the doors to the front desk at ten pm on Thursday the conversation from his aunt is still fresh in his mind. So is the speech he rehearsed in front of the employee bathroom mirror four times. He walked out and the nurse Jackson gave him a look as though he thought the bathroom would never be the same again.

 

She looks up at him with contempt and an icy chill spreads through the whole damn hospital in two seconds flat. “Go away, Wick,” she says a few decibels too high and with her teeth clenched tight.

 

Safe to say she was still mad. “Just let me talk.”

 

“Look where that got you last time,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t do excuses,” she tells him and he already knows why. There are enough excuses from the people in her life as it is. A mother excused by illness. A boyfriend excused by desperation. Herself excused by having no choice at all.

 

“Too bad I’m such a sorry excuse for a friend,” he tries to lighten the mood and she doesn’t even react. Standing there in front of her he realises that there isn’t a way to do this right. No magical combination of words or right timing for dramatic pauses or begging eyes will get Raven to forgive him. When she’s good and ready to forgive him, or if, is when it will happen.

 

“I don’t blame you for hating me, you know,” he says and he settles into the chair across from her desk because it made this whole terrible thing feel less whole and less terrible. His feet go up to prop on the corner and he crosses one ankle over the other. “If words were Mortal Kombat moves then I went  straight up ‘Finish him’ on your ass.” Nothing. “And I know I’m a dick but just because it rhymes with my last name doesn’t mean I can get away with it.”

 

“Cute,” she deadpans.

 

“We can go have angry sex if that will make this better.” Okay, if her face is any indication that was the _wrong_ thing to say. “Kidding.”

 

She fixes him with the sort of stare that she generally reserves for when she likes him. It’s a surprise but he essentially stops blinking because he doesn’t want her to realise she’s doing it and change her mind. “I don’t do heartfelt apologies,” she tells him and he doesn’t know if that means that she’s the forgive and forget type or if you need to heartfelt apologise over anything then too bad so sad for you. “And I don’t use people.”

 

“Raven, god, I know that.” He sits up, putting his feet on the floor and sitting on the edge of his chair so he’s that much closer to her. “I said what I said because I was having a shitty day and you…okay let me ask you a question.” She doesn’t agree but she also doesn’t tell him to shut up so he keeps going. “Did you ever say something really terrible to Finn? Like something that you knew would ruin him because you were angry at your mom or yourself or Octavia?”

 

She chews on her lip, eyes narrowed. “Yeah,” she finally answers but her eyes move away from his for a second as she says it. “Just because I’ve done it though doesn’t mean-“

 

“Not what I’m saying,” he cuts her off which, in retrospect, might not have been his best move. “My point is that sometimes things really suck and there isn’t a way to make them suck less so we just…take out all those sucky feelings on someone else as if it will make us feel better.”

 

“Really winning me over here.”

 

“And you do that sort of shit to the people you love and trust and care about. And dammit Raven Reyes I know I made an ass of myself Monday morning and I know I said awful things and I know you didn’t deserve a single one but… Saturday night you took off and it scared me. Then Monday morning things were weird and I was in a shitty mood and I took it out on you even though it wasn’t fair and I didn’t even mean it.”

 

Her hand disappears beneath the desk and he knows she’s doing that rubbing her knee thing all over again. “Okay,” is all she offers him.

 

“Um, okay?” he asks since that really doesn’t tell him anything at all.

 

“Take your okay and get the hell out of here before I change my mind,” she spits out and he stands in a hurry, almost knocking the chair over in the process.

 

“Okay,” he says, just to be cheeky but she looks at him with daggers which only spur him on further. He gives her a thumbs up on the way out the door and he’s not sure if he imagines it or not, but he would dare to say he sees the ghost of a smile on the edge of her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah okay sorry that I didn't post yesterday. I ended up having like a three hour class after my test and I was fried so I saved the editing for today. Anyway, I'm glad most of you knew not to worry too terribly over this angst, it seems Wick and Raven are both a bit too happy having the other around to hold a grudge. But don't worry, that doesn't mean there aren't other troubles on the horizon. Also we have reached a 100,000 words and that is ridiculous and I can't quite believe it but here we are. Thank you to those who have stuck with this story for so long!! I know it's nothing terribly exciting but I'm glad some of you are still enjoying it as much as I am. Let me know what you think of that chapter and also any thoughts on last night's episode!! I have a lot of them!


	35. Take What You Can Get

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven forgives and even though maybe she shouldn't and doesn't let go even though maybe she should.

**Raven’s POV**

It wasn’t that she couldn’t have turned down Wick’s apology if she’d wanted to. Though, now that she thought about it he hadn’t actually said the words ‘I’m sorry’ this time around. From Monday morning on she had been ready to write him off for good. She was angry and hurt and betrayed in a way that felt dirty. In fact, it reminded her of the way Finn left her feeling when she realised he was fucking Clarke on the side. (And not just fucking her even, loving her.) She hardly thought she was asking for a lot from people. Was it so hard not to cheat on her or accuse her of using people? These were things that were probably the most hurtful things either of them could have done to her, and yet they both came to pass.

 

So she’d been angry and hurt and completely done with his dumb ass. But then he’d been standing there and he was giving her the most disjointed, useless explanation she had ever heard and she had some sort of revelation that maybe she didn’t want to hate him for the rest of eternity. Because yes he was stupid and annoying and selfish every once in a while, but he was always steady and constant and _someone._ She missed having a someone and Octavia was having a baby and Finn was dead and Bellamy had his own damn issues. If all of that was different though, she still thinks that maybe Kyle Wick might be the someone she would choose.

 

In an attempt to get him to stop talking and make her stop thinking about Finn (was that seriously part of his strategy right now?) she says okay. It’s the easiest thing to say because it doesn’t have to mean she forgives him and it doesn’t have to mean she doesn’t. It was just a momentary offering of peace.

 

Therefore Raven is kind of surprised when Kyle does that same damn swagger through the admitting doors four minutes before either of them technically get off and he leans against the desk like nothing’s ever happened and like she hadn’t been plotting his death just a few hours earlier. 

 

“Hey, you know what great idea I came up with?” he asks with eyes that were too excited for seven in the morning.

 

There’s a biting comment tucked away somewhere in the forefront of her mind but she ignores it. “What?” she asks, boring and bland and peaceful instead.

 

He shoots her a curious glance but then plunges forward. “A transparent toaster,” he tells her, his voice is a little bit giddy and she almost finds it endearing. Almost. He was going to have to work harder than a see-through toaster to get completely back on her good side. “Think of all the perfectly toasted toast!”

 

“Some people can actually manage to toast bread,” she tells him with a shake of her head as Jasper comes sauntering in.

 

“Jasper, my man,” Wick says, still hovering in Raven’s space. “Tell me, transparent toaster: genius or unnecessary?”

 

Jasper looks between them before throwing his bag down on the floor and digging his work badge out of his pocket. “You can’t toast toast, can you, Wick?”

 

Raven almost doubles over in laughter holding her hand up for Jasper to high five. He does so and leaves to clock in. “Shut up,” Wick says, leaning back against the desk with his arms crossed in front of him. She laughs at him until Jasper comes back.

 

He offers for her to drive when they get outside but she waves the idea away. This morning she was eager to sit and enjoy the familiarity of the truck cabin again. She hadn’t realised that in her grand plans to write Wick off forever that there would have been a lot of things she would be saying goodbye to in addition to him.

 

“So,” he says, once their situated inside and the engine is running. He doesn’t move from the spot. “I feel like a celebration is in order.”

 

Sometimes he didn’t make any damn sense. “To celebrate what exactly?” she asks.

 

“We had our first major blow up fight and both of us live to tell the tale.” He throws the car into reverse and lets it drift back. She pays closer attention than usual. As she was eighteen the only requirements to get her license was some dumb two week long class and the driver’s test. “I say this demands breakfast.”

 

She sighs but there is no reason to argue. She was hungry and he was paying and there were no grocery stores waiting for her or even a hospital to go back to tonight. So why the hell not.

 

He takes her to a diner, one that she’d been to a time or two with her friends when some of them were a little bit drunk and the rest of them a lot. Their coffee was terrible but the amount of grease in everything was borderline disgusting, making it perfect. She doesn’t hold back, ordering eggs and bacon and hash browns and pancakes and a side of seasonal fruit because after all the bullshit of the last few days, he totally owed her seasonal fruit.

 

Wick drinks coffee and she drinks hot chocolate, feeling a little bit like a child for ordering it but regrets nothing of the rich liquid and mound of whipped cream when they place it in front of her.

 

Things aren’t exactly the same, there’s a heaviness between them and bite to her words and a twinge in her chest. But Wick wipes cream off her nose and steals cantaloupe out of her fruit bowl and she tells him about her conversation with Clarke and sometimes his hand rests on hers and her foot kicks his under the table. Somewhere along the way it transitions back to easy and she forgets the pain long enough to revel in the peace.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

February is drawing to a close before either of them even know what’s happening. Snow is replaced by rain and Clarke starts yammering on about spring break even though it’s still weeks away. Raven makes a point to try and be someone outside of a caregiver over the course of those weeks.

 

She goes to Octavia’s on a weekend before her shift at the hospital and they take turns helping the other study. (“Okay, spark arrestor? That just sounds made up.”) Someone decides that they should go bowling and they invite her along. She says yes to their surprise and lets Bellamy pick her up from the grocery store and uses ten dollars from her most recent check to just wear stupid shoes and throw something heavy along a polished floor. She beats everyone and doesn’t regret her decision at all.

 

Wick is there, he’s always there. He teaches her how to parallel park and they go to an art gallery that opened the next town over and pretend like they know what they’re looking at. She steals his phone and texts Clarke about the open spaces and the search for local talent. Sometimes he buys her food and she doesn’t fight him on it as much.

 

There are the things that stay the same of course. Her mother starts some sort of a relationship with her cocaine dealer and he’s there too much and he takes up space they don’t have and eats the food that’s made for her. Raven works extra hours to stay out of the house and puts the extra cash toward the debt and the bills that were constantly threatening to bury them under. Her leg hurts every night and she tries to massage it like Wick does though it isn’t quite the same. She falls asleep to the sounds of laughter that isn’t quite right and shouts that aren’t quite safe and a stomach that isn’t quite full.

 

When she starts losing sleep because of it Jasper notices first. He tells her that her eyes are too dark and her wit too dull. Wick notices next and he brings her back to his place some days, offering his bed or his couch or whatever so she could sleep in peace. He asks if things are okay and she says they’re no different than they always were.

 

One day when it’s too cold again and her body hurts all over Wick picks her up from the grocery store and they drive around. She slumps against the seats and doesn’t question him as he disappears down backroads and creeps along trying to avoid deer. His harsh words two weeks before are forgotten and she’s reminded why he’s her friend. She tries not to think about the kiss, which means she was always thinking about the kiss. Part of her wants more. Most of her knows that’s not really an option.

 

“So,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other trying to find the right balance between hot and cold air. “Things are good, right?”

 

It’s not like Raven thinks he’s stupid. She knows he’s not. “Things are fine,” she answers, trying to sound bored as she looks out into the woods. She thinks about bowling and food and friends and she realises that even though they aren’t totally fine (because she also thinks about drugs and fists and strangers) the good is a kind of contrast that she’d forgotten could exist.

 

“But if they weren’t,” he looks at her so she watches the road for him. “You’d tell me?”

 

“Wick,” it’s a sigh of exasperation and a little bit of exhaustion. “Things are the same they’ve always been. It is what it is.”

 

For a few minutes he doesn’t say anything else and they end up on a road that is a little more civilized but equally narrow and unfamiliar. “And is that what it’s always going to be?” he asks her and Raven wonders if he’d been planning to take this conversation there or if it had just happened. “Are you really going to spend the rest of your life taking care of someone who-“

 

“Stop,” she cuts him off. He asks as if she hadn’t already thought this through a million times. He asks like she doesn’t know that there was no visible end point. “Look, I’m learning to drive and I might have a real job within the year and yeah, things kind of suck the way they are but I can’t just…she’s my mom.”

 

Maybe he already knew what she was going to say. “That doesn’t mean you’re responsible for her mistakes.”

 

She wonders why he always talks about stuff like this in the car and it seems pretty simple that the answer is the fact she can’t escape. “Someone has to try and keep her alive, Wick.” It was bad enough that she was away like she was. It was awful enough that she didn’t do anything to stop the ugly fighting at night. It was horrible enough that she handed over money to support a habit that was slowly killing her mother anyway. The fact of the matter was, either she gave the money then for her mother to use or people came knocking on their door. Asking, expecting, and very angry.

 

There’s no doubt in her mind that he has a hundred things to say back to that but instead he just sighs and pulls something out of his pocket. “Fine,” he says and holds his hand out to her. “I’ll drop it if you take this.”

 

It’s a cell phone. Small and black and hardly anything fancy, but it’s a phone. “You know I can’t-“

 

“A month ago there was a robbery in your neighbourhood and I almost killed myself to check on you. Two weeks ago you took off in the dead of night and I had no idea if you were alive or not. And now there’s something going on and you have no way to get help aside from walking out and finding someone. So take the damn phone and let me sleep at night, alright?”

 

She takes the damn phone.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

It’s only two days later when Wick apparently decides that he can just throw about all sorts of ideas. He has an armload of loose papers and highlighters and he drops everything onto her desk at work with a flourish. She looks up at him with some mild hatred, he just buried all of her admission orders after all. “What the hell is this?” she asks, expecting some grand plan for the rocket which, don’t tell Wick, she already knew just fine how to get working by now but she’d been hunting high and low for the part she needed.

 

“Colleges,” he says, shoving the stack a little bit closer to her and moving to sit down. She despised the grin on his face. “Top pile is NASA stuff. Aerospace engineer looks pretty promising if you ask me,” he says it with a waggle of his eyebrows and a pointed look. Damn engineers. “But then there’s some more low key stuff as well. Their requirements aren’t that crazy and none of the colleges are super near here but commute to some of them might not be too bad and-“

 

“Stop talking,” she instructs, holding up a hand and staring blankly down at everything in front of her. There was a lot. “How long have you been doing this?”

 

“A while,” he admits and Raven doesn’t push further for information on that. She might not even want to know if she was being honest with herself. “And I know you probably have a million reasons why you can’t or shouldn’t or whatever, but come on, Raven.”

 

She shakes her head and tries to ignore the way what he’s saying is affecting her. “You don’t get it,” is all there really is to say. If he got it he wouldn’t bring up things like leaving her mom or going to college or having a life of her own. “There’s no way I could pay for this to start.”

 

“Student loans,” he suggest like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

With a roll of her eyes, because really how could he think she hasn’t considered that already, she shakes her head. “They want information on your parents for those. Annual income, tax information, other things that could get her in a hell of a lot of trouble.” Why did he think she didn’t have food stamps or welfare or fucking health insurance? There was no way to get it without calling to attention the fact that her mom owed money and they had none to give. “Not to mention where the hell would I find the time? Or the car to get back and forth from wherever you think I should go?”

 

“We could figure it out. Maybe you could take my truck on days you have class and if you rearranged your hours to work more weekends or-“

 

“Just stop,” she says, lifting the stack of papers he’d slammed down to find what she needed. “I know maybe the future might seem bright and endless and filled with all sorts of magic to you, Wick, but I’m still living in reality.” With a bit of exaggerated effort she pushes everything back towards him and clicks through the screens on her computer to admit a patient. “A job in a garage and more than twenty dollars to my name is the best I can hope for.”

 

Her words might be hopeless and intended to make him feel like shit, but Wick doesn’t even seem deterred. “There are places that can help your mom.” 

 

She wants to be mad and say that she does help her but she knows what he means. She knows that her help is a mere bandage on a severing limb. “They’re expensive and all she has to do is turn around and walk out the door after I drop her off.”

 

“If she doesn’t have anyone to fall back on she might stay.”

 

It would be easier to be mad at him if Raven didn’t know how desperately he was trying to make things better in a world where she had already struggled to get her best. “I’m all she has, Wick. And I’m not going to leave her.”

 

He doesn’t point out that at one point Raven had only had her mother. He doesn’t remind her that her mother had left Raven on her own anyway. Instead he sits with her for another hour, not saying a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is late but don't be mad at me. I got too absorbed into writing future chapters to stop and edit this one. I'm having too much fun and quite frankly I need to stop because I'm supposed to be studying. But oh well, who needs a degree anyway? Tell me what you think, give me your expectations and anticipations and make up for my impending failure with nice words.


	36. Worst Case Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick falls more in love and fights for something better.

**Wick’s POV**

Wick takes the stack of rejected papers back home with him and shoves all of them in a drawer. It wasn’t that he was just going to give up, but maybe give it a rest for now. Raven wasn’t as against accepting his help as she’d once been, but there were definitely matters that she wasn’t about to change her mind on anytime soon.

 

Though he wasn’t going to bring it up again, the night in his living room was hardly forgotten. The words she spit out like poison cycled through his mind. Maybe some of what was holding her here so steadfastly was the guilt she felt from the thoughts that she had breathed to life. She was loyal, to a fault, but her mother had pushed that loyalty so far and Wick was waiting for it to break and finally allow Raven to be free. Once her mother was forced to fall on her ass she might actually start putting herself back together. Raven might be trying to do the right thing, but standing by and enabling her own mother she was just making it worse. Once again, not something he was about to go and tell her. After all, she had only just barely forgiven him for the last stupid thing he said.

 

So he doesn’t bring it up again and neither does she. Somehow their friendship has managed to become a little bit stronger, even after the kiss and the fallout and the messiness that came along with apologies and forgiveness. Wick was sure that even if she ever did forgive him that she would return to being distant and reserved, the Raven he had met back in November instead of the Raven he had since gotten to know. So it takes him by pleasant surprise when nothing really changes.

 

They spend more time at his place than before. When he picked her up from the store she would ask to stay with him until their shift at the hospital started three hours later. Maybe she was trying to save him driving, but Wick liked to pretend it was just that she wanted to be there.

 

At first he tries to remain a complete friend distance away from her at all times. He doesn’t sit too close on the couch or linger in her space at work, at least not like he used to. But now when they sit down she props her leg up on his lap and asks him to massage it, and she leans towards him when there’s a table or desk or any sort of space separating them. He feels like he’s always waiting with parted lips and held breath for her to just lean in again and remind him of just what he’d been missing. (As if he needed the reminder at all.)

 

Of course she doesn’t. That just leaves Wick frustrated and angry and having a shorter fuse than normal. So he starts by asking out Harper. Not that he really knew much about her, but she was a girl and she was pretty cute and he was perfectly fine with buying a relatively nice dinner for a girl who smiled a lot and laughed at his jokes. But she answers with, “I’m sorry, I don’t think my girlfriend would like that very much,” and he figures that his chances there are probably pretty slim.

 

He’s upset for all of twelve seconds before he’s in front of Raven’s desk laughing about a hot dog commercial and forgetting why he even thought there was a point in going out with someone else. So he invites her to dinner instead and she shrugs and says yes and he doesn’t even care if he can’t kiss her at the end of the night. Okay, that’s a lie, he does care.

 

It’s easy and fun and he orders dessert even when she tells him not to. They talk about things like cars and science and the worst teachers they had growing up. No one mentions the things that make the air heavy and no one leans too close or talks too softly. It’s similar to going out with Monty or Miller, and Wick decides he wouldn’t really change that anyway.

 

Now when he drops her off at her place he always scans for other cars or signs of any trouble. Raven keeps her cell phone on her, he always sees it in her back pocket, and every once in a while he texts or calls her, just for the hell of it. She answers him back, but he can usually read everything she sends in that same exasperated tone that she talks in.

 

The one time she calls him it’s three in the morning and he’d been asleep and she tells him everything is fine, her sleep schedule is just fucked from work. He tries not to hear the voices in the background and instead he pulls out one of her manuals that she’d left behind at his place and quizzes her on the whole thing, front to back. She knows every answer, usually with more detail than he can even fact check. It’s morning before they’re finished. There are no more sounds that he can hear aside from her gentle breathing and when she clears her throat he tells her thanks for the company. What he doesn’t tell her is that he has to work day shift today and so he rolls out of bed with two hours of sleep under his belt and goes to work a twelve hour shift. Regardless of his heavy eyes and unfocused train of thought he can’t bring himself to regret it in the slightest.

 

March waits to make an entrance and everyone eagerly awaits the break of spring. Which of course doesn’t come and leads to a community of complaining, as if the weather was just going to go, “stop your bitching already, here’s some sun.” Instead it just got angrier and colder and Wick was glad that nine times out of ten he was driving Raven where she needed to go.

 

After another long, boring night of work Wick makes his way to the front of the hospital. He bursts through the doors like usual and she shoots him that look like always and he smiles because it’s familiar and easy. Just as he’s gone to sit across from her, because it’s a Tuesday morning and Jasper was always late on Tuesday mornings (he had raids on Monday nights), Doctor Griffin comes out those same double doors, admittedly lacking his superior flourish. The one thing he notices is that she does not seem happy.

 

She stands in front of Raven, arms crossed and not paying Wick the least bit of attention. “So how are things going with Dr. Robins?”

 

“Who?” Raven asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Exactly my point,” the doctor says with a sigh. She shakes her head and throws Wick a glance before directing her attention back to Raven. “I pulled a lot of strings to get you into physical therapy here, Raven. They don’t normally accept Medicaid here.” Raven’s mouth forms a small ‘o’ as she realises what Dr. Griffin is on about. “Are you blowing off appointments for work? Because I can tell you that therapy is far more important than working.”

 

Wick is a little surprise that Raven doesn’t immediately argue with that. Then again, unless she wanted to inform Dr. Griffin of her exact conditions, it made sense. “It’s not about work, Abby,” she tells her and her voice is equal parts grumble as well as resigned.

 

“I don’t care what it’s about, Raven. If you don’t take care of that leg soon you’re going to lose it.” It seems that this isn’t new information to Raven as she barely reacts. Whereas Wick’s eyes get wide as he sits up properly in his chair for the first time.

 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, intervening for Raven since she seemed to care so little.

 

That gets her attention. “This is HIPPA,” she says to the doctor. “You can’t just go around blabbing my medical information when other people are around.”

 

“I’m not your doctor anymore,” she argues even though Wick is pretty sure that’s not how it works. “And I mean it, Raven. You better get your ass to an appointment because I will not be the one who saws through your bone. Not after everything I did to save it.”

 

Raven at least has the decency to look ashamed as she stares down at the desk. She doesn’t seem to have any words to respond with and Dr. Griffin must not have anything else to say. She walks away, throwing Wick one more look which seemed awfully angry. He wasn’t completely sure if the anger was directed at him or Raven. Either way he looked down from her stare, feeling like a kid in trouble.

 

Once she’s gone Wick looks up at Raven who still was fixated on her mousepad, a fingernail scratching over a stain on the black material. “Raven-“

 

“Don’t, okay?” she cuts him off and instead of the harsh, dry anger he had suspected she sounds weak and defeated.

 

Later, he decides and instead just nods. “Yeah, okay.”

 

Jasper comes in and no one gives him a hard time about being late. In fact, no one says anything at all.

 

\---------------------------------

 

Wick doesn’t even ask her before driving her back to his place. He parks in his usual spot and turns the truck off but neither of them make a move to get out. The heat hadn’t been on long enough to properly warm the inside of the truck and the cold air settles back around them. “You’re an idiot,” he says eventually. “And I know that’s usually your line but…damn, Raven.”

 

“Didn’t we just decide not to talk about this,” she asks through clenched teeth. But she doesn’t actively try to get away from him so he keeps going.

 

“Losing your leg? I feel like that’s something we should talk about.”

 

She huffs like a pouty teenagers and opens the car door. “That’s worst case scenario,” she says, getting out and moving towards the building.

 

“Well you’re pretty much flying the plane right to worst case scenario-ville so then what?”

 

There’s no answer as she starts on the stairs, moving at her usual pace. “Shut the fuck up or take me home,” she says, turning to face him and pausing on her ascent. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know and I’m tired. So decide what you’re going to do and then let me know.”

 

He has a hell of a lot more to say but she doesn’t seem to be interested in listening any longer.

 

So he shuts the hell up in order to prevent any further damage. Once they get inside she passes out on the couch and he takes the bed and it’s all very normal. But then his mind starts reeling and he does exactly what any curious, concerned human would do in a situation such as this. He Googled it.

 

There wasn’t anything clear and concise to really look up so he starts at the beginning. He learns about the difference between myopathy and neuropathy, partial paralysis versus full, and he stumbles onto some forum where people start talking about their miraculous recoveries or the sudden deaths of their loved ones. There was no in-between.

 

The one thing he doesn’t do, which is what he really wants to, is wake Raven up and discuss all of this information. He figured that odds were she had something called a focal contusion, maybe, but even that he was kind of weary on. In fact, most of what kept popping up was diabetes related things and Wick felt pretty certain that wasn’t what he was looking for.

 

It was his NASA college program research project all over again. Only this time he’s printing out pictures of range of motion exercises and reading about the positive effects of swimming.

 

Lastly he does something that he knows he probably shouldn’t. Partly he feels like he’s betraying some sort of trust or crossing a boundary line that he felt pretty certain Raven didn’t even want toed. But he creeps out into the living room and finds her brace lying on the floor next to the couch. He picks it up and with trained eyes and experienced hands he considers how it works now as well as how it could work better. He sees how it’s used to fully support her weight and how her range of motion, which he had just read about the importance of endlessly, was constricted the whole time she wore the damn thing because of it. He thinks of materials and comfort and mechanisms and really he thinks about how he could do so much better.

 

Taking pictures and measurements and sketches were way further than he had intended, but he goes for it anyway. He uses what he has to discover what he can and he draws and plans and talks out loud like a crazy scientist. But when he puts her brace back and falls into bed three hours later, he feels the pit of worry in his stomach lessen and the possibility of creating something better grows in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so here's the deal. As it stands currently my living situation is a bit of a mess and I'm essentially a nomad lol. As if I wasn't busy enough. I still have another five or six chapters written after this one but my updating kind of depends on my wi-fi availability. So I'm going to try my best to stay on top of things as best I can. I have yet another test on Monday so I'll make a point to upload after that. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	37. Revalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven is forced to acknowledge a piece of reality.

**Raven’s POV**

After Abby completely bombards Raven at work on Thursday morning, Raven is convinced she’ll never hear the end of Wick’s worrying. She expects to wake up in a dark room with a metal table and one chair and a light shining right in her eyes as he wears away her resilience until she agrees to dole out cash she didn’t have for treatment she didn’t need. Instead he orders pizza on Tuesday night and they move the coffee table and sit on the floor while he digs out the game Taboo. It’s technically for teams, meaning you need at least four people to properly play it, but they make it work. He’s terrible at giving clues but she manages to be excellent at guessing anyway. He keeps getting worse and so she starts being terrible at clue giving as well, because it was hardly fair that he gave the worst clues ever and she the best. Eventually it’s devolved into the two of them giving the vaguest hints and seeing who guesses it first. “You can’t just say, ‘it’s a thing’ and leave it at that!” _“You_ can’t just say ‘it exists’ and not add anything else.” “At least I ruled out all of the things that don’t exist.”)

 

The whole process entertains them longer than it probably should and after sometime Raven lies back on the rug and closes her eyes. It wasn’t that she was tired necessarily, but the threat of her leg was hanging over her now in ways that it hadn’t before and the weight of it was heavy.

 

Even though her eyes are closed and she can’t feel a thing, she knows Wick’s massaging her leg. She’d long gotten past the point of wanting him nowhere near it or yelling at him when he touched it without her knowing. This somehow became a thing between them and it helped so much that she didn’t have it in her to fight him.

 

She lets a happy sigh slip past her lips and she can imagine his smile at the sound. It was weird, because she’d had someone love her before and had returned her love towards them. He too looked at her with warm eyes and gentle smiles and he knew just where to kiss her and how she liked her back rubbed and what to do when she was in a bad mood. He figured those things out largely through trial and error but occasionally with her own voluntary offering of information. There was something different about the way that Wick regarded her though. She never expected that someone could appear to love her so fully when she offered so little in return.

 

Of course he thought that he hid it. But she saw right through his dopey eyes and lovesick smile. It wasn’t fair maybe, but she wasn’t about to have the ‘I’m not in love you with you let’s just be friends’ conversation with him. If her running out the door after a single kiss wasn’t enough of a tip off then it might just be a lost cause altogether.

 

“Hey,” she murmurs when his hand has moved on to her right leg. He squeezed and rolled and tightened all along the muscle and she could feel every movement and she didn’t shy away like she once did. Wick doesn’t answer but she knows he’s listening. “Clarke and Bellamy invited us out this weekend, if you’re interested.”

 

There’s a long pause and she wonders if maybe he hadn’t actually been listening. “Like a double date?” he finally asks, voice thick and teasing and his fingers more so tickling beneath her knee than massaging.

 

“Well considering you and I aren’t dating and Clarke and Bellamy aren’t dating…then no.” It had been Bellamy’s idea and Octavia had already texted her an hour before saying she _had_ to say yes because this might finally be her big brother’s chance to get laid and, ever since the whole pregnancy announcement, did he seriously need to blow off some steam. So she said yes and Bellamy picks some sushi place just outside of town. Raven takes twenty dollars from her pay check after looking up the menu online and reminds herself not to feel guilty because just three days prior she had forked over three hundred dollars to some guy with a teardrop tattoo on his face and a freaking kid with him. Her mom did a lot of terrible things throughout her childhood but at least she never brought her along on drug deals.

 

He makes a sound of agreement and she kicks her foot in his general direction when he ventures too far past her knee. “My aunt is already talking about us coming up for Easter,” he says and she can hear the smile in his voice.

 

Mainly the idea fills her with excitement. She thought of the crazy little kids and the dog who laid his head on her leg and his aunt with her warm, soft hugs and impressively good mashed potatoes. She also knows the implications though. Raven was no fool on how family’s thought. “Do you normally go there for Easter?”

 

“No,” he says, chuckling. “Apparently the kids keep pestering her about when Aunt Raven is coming again.”

 

Even with the implications her whole body warms. She didn’t even _like_ kids, but if she had to deal with any of them she guesses she would pick that crazy crew. “They’re all nuts,” she murmurs but it’s with a great deal of affection covering her tone.  Pushing up on her elbows she looks down at Wick. He laid on his stomach, his hands reaching out as they dug into her skin. “But I’d like to see them again.”

 

There’s a brief thought floating through her head about how Easter was a month and a half away and the potential for holiday pay and what did people even _do_ on Easter. But then Wick looks over at her and she decides that just this once she wasn’t going to think.

 

\--------------------------

 

The restaurant doesn’t smell like fish when they first walk in and Raven is relieved. They meet Clarke and Bellamy there and find them at a small table in a corner of the restaurant with not enough lighting and one place setting short of their four person party. Wick doesn’t pull out her chair and Raven appreciates him all the more for it.

 

“How’s school?” Wick makes the mistake of asking after they’ve sat down and Bellamy looks at him with mild fury as Clarke sighs the heaviest sigh Raven has ever heard in her life.

 

“Never mind him,” she says, waving his question away and putting a hand over his mouth as he starts to protest. “Did you guys hear about the roof that collapsed on the Starbucks? Crazy stuff, right?”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes and Bellamy asks, “Which Starbucks?” with genuine concern.

 

“You can’t tell me the Bronco’s didn’t totally earn that win!” Raven demands of Bellamy after their drinks delivered. Somehow the topic of football had been brought up and though it wasn’t like she sat around watching it regularly, she just so happened to get stuck working day shift the day of the Super bowl and there was a TV in the waiting so she figured, why not.

 

“It was almost as much as a rip off as the Ravens win a few years ago!” he practically shouts, the soda sloshing in his cup as he gestured a little too wildly with his hands. Clarke reaches forward and plucks the cup from his hand, setting it back on the table far enough away that he wouldn’t accidentally smack it over.

 

“You’re a child,” she explains when he looks over at her with a furrowed brow at his lost drink. “I’m saving us from having to explain that to the waiter in a few minutes.”

 

One more wild gesture and Wick decides to break it up for good. “Mostly because I don’t really know what you guys are talking about,” he explains.

 

When they order Raven is a little astounded at the sheer amount of food Bellamy and Clarke get. They ramble off roll after roll and she’s pretty sure some of them weren’t even on the menu. She must look as flabbergasted as she feels because Bellamy tells her, “Clarke can never make a decision when we come. You’re more than welcome to eat the absurd amount of leftovers that she’s about to leave in her wake.” She doesn’t mind that he’s offering her charity, in the form of someone else’s food, because at least he disguises it well.

 

“Well if you guys aren’t planning to eat it all…” she shrugs and just asks for a refill on her water.

 

“How’s Octavia?” Wick asks once the server’s gone and Raven kicks him under the table. “Ow?” he only half commits to it, looking to Raven in question as to why he’s being abused.

 

She shakes her head and looks at Bellamy who just grins. “You sure have a thing for bringing up sore subjects,” she tells him.

 

“She’s fine,” Bellamy answers in a gruff voice. “Threw up for the first time yesterday,” and Raven swears she hears the ‘too bad, so sad,’ hidden in his voice. “And she was pissed she couldn’t come tonight.” No sushi when you’re pregnant, apparently. Raven still wasn’t sure if that was a real thing or if Bellamy was just trying to find some sort of cruel and unusual punishment.

 

“What’d your mom say?” Raven asks.

 

When he laughs for a second across the table she knows why. Clarke clears her throat and starts on a story of her insane calculus teacher who continuously rambles about the beauty of math. “Like no kidding, he solved an equation and then stood there in silence for a full minute before asking us if we felt that ‘special tingling’ too.” For the first time in a long time, Raven is not jealous of Clarke’s college education. "Then he kept us all after class so we could appreciate the beauty of math for a few extra minutes."

 

“Clearly math did a _number_ on him,” Wick jokes, face splitting into a wide grin at his terrible joke. Raven shakes her head, embarrassed that this idiot was the person she chose to keep company with.  “Seriously though, sounds just like Raven whenever she gets under the hood of my truck,” Wick adds and she reaches out and smacks him again. “I’m gonna start hitting you back in a minute,” he jokes and she smiles because she can see the teasing in his eyes and she knows there’s nothing to be afraid of.

 

“That damn thing would have blown up when you took it over sixty if it weren’t for me,” she reminds him.

 

When their food comes it doesn’t take Raven long to pick up on how gross Clarke and Bellamy were. They ate off each other’s plates and shared the same soy sauce cup. For a couple of people who weren’t a couple, they sure acted like one. Bellamy gets soy sauce on his chin and Clarke is looking at him like she’s ready to lick it off. It’s a little uncomfortable.

 

“Have you ever done this whole raw fish thing before?” Wick leans over and asks her in a whisper.

 

With a shake of her head Raven stares at the shrimp tail sticking out of the sushi roll closest to her. “If I’m paying for fish I usually expect it to be cooked.” It looked bit…slimy for her taste.

 

“Oh stop being wusses,” Clarke, who apparently had been paying attention, says as she pushes a plate towards the two of them. “This one is deep fried for crying out loud. I think you’ll both make it.”

 

Raven picks up her chopsticks and easily manoeuvres them as she picks up the piece of sushi, her and Octavia had become perfectionists at the art of chopstick wielding back in the sixth grade when they were convinced boys would find it sexy. (Finn thought she was crazy when she showed him her new skill and promptly pulled a fork out of the drawer to eat his sweet and sour chicken with.)

 

Wick struggles an unbelievable amount and she laughs tremendously when one of his attempts leave his sushi roll face down , soaking in the soy sauce dish. “Oh my god how are you so incompetent at this?” she asks, taking his hand in hers and moving his fingers as she needed them.

 

“As an engineer,” he opens with which usually meant he was about to say something that would make her roll  her eyes so far back they were looking at yesterday. “I would never have stuck with eating with something so impractical. I’m not evolutionarily set up to use chopsticks because even if I had been born in China three centuries ago I would have still created a better tool to eat food with than two skinny pieces of wood.”

 

“Are you done?” she asks, steadying the first stick in between his fingers.

 

“Also tongue splinters,” he adds but then, thankfully, stops.

 

The dinner as a whole is a little awkward with Raven, and probably everyone else, silently trying to convince themselves that it wasn’t awkward. Raven wasn’t familiar with the whole, even amount of people paired off together. Also she fell into conversation easiest with Bellamy, which left Clarke out a lot. It was a fine line to walk and she didn’t have very good balance.

 

But then they all eat way too much, Bellamy hadn’t been lying about their leftovers, and then he’s cracking jokes over vanilla ice cream that only half tasted like ice cream, and Raven is laughing so hard she has to hold her stomach while Wick has a tear rolling down his cheek. Clarke shakes her head at first but then she’s falling into Bellamy as her shoulders shake and they turn into the loudest table in the restaurant. Everyone else probably hates them for it. Too bad none of them care in the slightest.

 

Wick’s arm falls around her chair and Raven doesn’t even mind because it’s just kind of what they do. If he doesn’t take her home tonight right after this little event she doesn’t doubt for a second that he’ll work away at her tense muscle and they’ll sit a little too close on his couch. It wasn’t fair to Wick and she knew it, but that didn’t make her change her ways. When it came to kissing and a proper relationship she shut him down so fast, but when it came to everything else, all of the other boyfriend-y things that there are, she couldn’t deny him. Which was terrible and she was probably going to hell for it but whatever, he gave good massages.

 

Bellamy and Clarke both stick their credit cards in the bill when Wick is gone in the bathroom and Raven shoves her twenty at them in an attempt to help cover some of what must be a very expensive meal. “You’re kidding me, right?” Bellamy asks, not touching the money.

 

“I ate as much as you guys,” she argues and feels bad she hadn’t brought more. Even if they didn’t have it to spend, it would be nice not feel so ashamed and _poor_ all the goddamn time. “Just take it.”

 

“Our order, our treat,” Clarke says with a shrug so Raven snatches her money back off the table and shoves it in her pocket. After all, money clearly wasn’t an issue for Clarke or her family.

 

By the time Wick makes it back the whole ordeal has been sorted and the bill brought back. There’s no fortune cookies to end this meal and Raven figures that might be for the best. “I should go,” Clarke grumbles as she glances at her cell phone for the time. “Organic chemistry isn’t going to study itself.”

 

She sounds distraught but Wick looks down right gleeful at the mention. For a minute Raven’s worried that this weird pseudo role they’ve all slipped into where they’re adults who go on double dates that aren’t double dates is going to keep playing out. But thank god Clarke doesn’t kiss her cheek and Bellamy and Wick don’t hug and pat each other on the back. They walk outside and Bellamy bumps his fist against hers and Clarke waves goodbye as she half runs to Bellamy’s car to get away from the cold. “See you guys later!” she shouts just before she disappears into the car.

 

It’s cold and the roads had been wet earlier, leaving icy spots all through the parking lot. It takes Raven almost slipping once before Wick has his arm wrapped around her waist and is half holding her up while pretending not to. When they get to the truck Raven knows she doesn’t stand a chance getting in her usual way with the thin sheet of ice that sits on the blacktop beside her door. She bites her lip, waiting for Wick to walk away so that she can try something else, maybe. He must have the same thought though as he swings open her door and holds her steady as she tries to boost off with her good foot. She doesn’t get very far due to a complete lack of traction, but his hands push her up the rest of the way. He shuts the door to the truck before she can say anything.

 

In a few minutes the heat warms and the truck moves slowly but steadily, and it all makes her limbs feel heavy and useless and her mind shuts down a little bit. This damn truck was always putting her to sleep. “Tonight was fun,” she says through a yawn, stretching out her arms and her hand somehow finds itself settled against Wick’s arm for a second. She lets it stay there for a tense moment before pulling it away.

 

“It was,” he agrees quietly and Raven just knows that his eyes are between watching her and the road. “Clarke is pretty chill.”

 

“Yeah.” Since their impromptu sleepover Raven had found herself weakened in every aspect when it came to Clarke Griffin and her perfect family that wasn’t perfect and her college education that she didn’t want. She had a bright smile and an easy posture but sometimes her eyes were too sad or her shoulders tense and Raven knows what it’s like to pretend to be okay when it didn’t really feel that way. “I like Clarke.”

 

“Did you want me to take you home or…” he fades off, waiting for her to fill in the ‘or’ so he didn’t have to.

 

Raven throws a spare thought to her mother; she’d left a few days ago with her new boyfriend and hadn’t been back since. Raven worried but not excessively. It wasn’t like there was a way to find her. She always came back in the end. Sometimes a little more broken and a lot more angry, but she came back. The silence at home is nice, but the loneliness still finds its way to her when the only sounds are the heat kicking on in the middle of the night and sirens speeding by on the road outside. “Your place is good,” she says with an attempt to sound uninterested in the idea. “The roads suck anyway.” They pass her place to get back to his but he doesn’t argue.

 

Perhaps she should have known what would come eventually. He had gone far longer without bringing up the topic than she ever thought possible. His silence on the issue was soon to end. She’s already thrown herself onto the couch and tossed her brace halfway across the room. She bends it a few different ways and the lets it hang limply off the couch.

 

When Wick falls next to her a few minutes later she waits for him to ask for her leg, ready for him to work the sort of magic she never could on her muscles. He doesn’t. So with her hands and some repositioning she picks it up and lays it right in his lap, drawing his eyes away from the TV and down to her leg.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, still not touching her.

 

“That’s worrisome,” she grunts and uses what she has of her muscles to pick her leg up half an inch and set it back down on his lap, demanding.

 

“Yeah, well it’s actually probably for the best if you just keep not taking care of your leg,” he says and his voice is so obviously serious that she knows he’s essentially throwing a tantrum right now. “I mean, for me at least.”

 

“Oh yeah?” she plays along so he can make his point and then do that thing that makes her knee unlock.

 

She watches his hand fall to her leg and then not move at all. “Well think about it, if you get your leg chopped off that means I get all the benefits of a handicapped friend.” She glares now. “Great parking, shorter lines at the amusement parks, ooh and those great seats in movie theatres. We’d have a ton of leg room. Which will at least come in handy for me.”

 

“Alright, I get it,” she finally says. Even though she had been so ready to write him off and ignore him, his words were getting to her.

 

“I’m not done. Because, okay think about this, Halloween costume opportunities. We can totally be pirates and fashion you a great peg leg.”

 

“Wick, stop,” she wishes her voice wasn’t all broken. “Your point has been made.”

 

The demeanour falls away and now he just looks angry as his hand grasps her leg, though she can’t feel it and he turns to stare in a way that makes her feel naked. “Do you, Raven? ‘Cause you have  a doctor telling you you’re gonna get your leg amputated and your response is…what? Take your brace off once in a while? Have me massage it more? What are you going to do when its six months down the road and there’s nothing left to sustain you so you can’t walk and then six months after that when it starts dying off. And how about after it’s gone and it hurts ten times worse than it does now even though it’s gone and a prosthetic pinches and chafes your skin every damn day?”

 

His words hit hard because she knows that he’s been researching. Which of course he has. Wick probably came home that morning after Abby’s outburst and Googled everything that was happening and that could happen and he faced the truth in a way she couldn’t bring herself to. “What do you want me to do?” her voice comes out in a snarl because he doesn’t get it. No one ever gets it.

 

“Go to the damn doctors! I’ve spent more time with you these past few weeks than without, and I haven’t once seen you do any of those exercises you’re supposed to. And I’ve seen you stretch like what, twice?”

 

“I _can’t_ do any fucking exercises, Wick.” Her breath whooshes out in exasperation. “It hurts just to bend it, and I have a pamphlet full of pushing and pulling and things that are impossible.” When she’d first gotten home and there had still been fire in her veins from the operation and an emptiness in her chest from sending Finn away, she had been determined. She’d tried like no other to do each and every outlined exercise that had been explained to her. It not only killed her every time, but it was damn near impossible. She fell down and couldn’t get it to move the way she needed and it just lead to frustrated tears and lying on the floor for longer than was necessarily normal. “And who’s paying for therapy exactly? Because it’s not an ER. They turn you away unless you have insurance.”

 

“Then we find a solution,” he tells her with urgency in his voice and determination in his eyes. “But you can’t just give up, Raven.” He sighs out her name and it makes her heart beat faster and tears sting her eyes and she doesn’t think about how her mom has been gone for three days or the way the bills keep coming or how her leg isn’t even the thing that hurts worst right now. “You’re worth something too.”

 

He says it like a reminder, but it’s actually more of a revelation.

 

“I know.” She didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys I tried my best yesterday. Spring break is at the end of the month and I can't wait. I have so much writing to catch up on. Until then, thank god for these chapters I wrote ahead of time. I had a lot of fun writing that dinner scene between those four though it didn't quite turn out how I wanted. The calculus teacher thing is a true story, by the way. This man actually exists in the world. Anyway, hope you are all having a great week!


	38. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wick is presented with an opportunity

**Wick’s POV**

When he had been in college the only dream that had been on Kyle’s mind was all the damn near brilliant stuff he would one day be able to do. Not boring things like getting married or having kids or taking vacations to Florida in a mini-van while everyone wore Mickey Mouse ears. He was excited about equations and acids and bases and organic chemistry and what he could fix by putting all those things together. He was in love with the idea of making lives better and easier and sustainable for however long he could. There were places to travel to and shit to blow up and fun to be had.

 

At one point he’d been 22 years old and getting really excited over science. Now he was nearing 24 and his dreams were shifting in ways he had never anticipated.

 

His original desires, those stayed the same. He still wanted to make and destroy and fix, but he didn’t want to do it alone anymore. There were still places to see and explosions to be made and all sorts of fun to be found and damn straight he was going to do those things. But he couldn’t imagine doing them without someone by his side.

 

At first he tries to convince himself that the fact that Raven Reyes is the person he thinks of when he considers the idea of someone to do all these things with doesn’t mean anything. After all, she was his only real friend and it was only natural to think about doing things with someone who you already do so many things with. But trying to replace with the thought of some future girlfriend or wife or even another friend proves useless. Wick knew that all of these things he wanted to do…he wanted to do them with her.

 

Which sounded simple and lovely and romantic, but it was actually kind of terrible. Because the more dues he paid at the hospital job the closer he got to being able to do more. Which was exciting, as long as he kept that realisation very separate from any other thought about where his life would go from there. Because, as Raven liked to near constantly remind him, she wasn’t going very far. Not in reference to how much success she could one day achieve, because if she wanted to be a mechanic for the rest of her life then she was going to be the best one in the whole damn state. She was going to open her own shop and fix cars like a pro and have her own empire. But it ended there. So much was tying her to this place and she wasn’t about to let him cut her free.

 

There was something about her loyalty to her mom that Wick knew meant she wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn’t just a selfish desire, trying to get her look through colleges and considering checking her mom into rehab. For fuck’s sake it wasn’t like she was his to be selfish with in the first place. But the conversation reminded him just how much Raven’s life may not change for another ten years and how much life he wanted to live in that time span. It was the sort of depressing revelation that made him want a drink at ten in the morning. (But then he thinks of how Raven looks at him when he has a beer and he settles for a really big bowl of frosted flakes instead.)

 

It was all a bit depressing and something he tried hard not to think about too often if he could help it. Which is why he was thinking about it now because he literally couldn’t help it when he had a job offer three states over rattling around in his brain. He hadn’t even _applied_ for fuck’s sake, but one of his supervisor’s at the hospital was moving to some fancy lab in Massachusetts and had personally offered him a job there where he would be doing real, engineering related things instead of playing Rainbow Unicorn Dash on his cell phone at three in the morning.

 

But then he thought about what he would be leaving behind to go work this job and he isn’t sure what it says about him that after living in the same place for 23 years he has literally only one person who comes to mind. Sure he had some other casual friends now and maybe a few buddies from high school that he saw literally never, but still. Raven was the only reason to say no. And the worst part was that he was pretty damn sure that was all the reason he needed.

 

Of course that raised the question what about a year from now, or two, or five? Was he going to stick around Newark, Delaware for the rest of his life to be near Raven Reyes? It wasn’t like he could throw away all of those dreams and plans and goals for one girl who was as accessible to him as the stairs were to a handicapped person. That didn’t mean he could leave her though. God, he couldn’t possibly leave her.

 

So he tells the woman that he’ll think about it and that’s exactly what he does. He thinks before he goes to sleep and he thinks when he wakes up and, goddammit, sometimes he thinks even in his dreams. He considers the opportunity he is being presented and when a chance like this will come up again. He thinks about being able to go back to his college reunion in ten years and telling everyone that he’d been working in a high end lab for the better half of nine years and what’s that Jeff? Oh you’re _still_ working in that same office? Pity.

 

When he isn’t being petty he thinks about travelling and fixing and working with other people who were as excited about the fact that when two protons collided they broke apart and spilled confetti of usual matter all over the place. Not that he didn’t enjoy Monty’s company, but there wasn’t a whole lot to do and that left the conversation surrounding boyfriend drama more often than not. Which is good as well but he didn’t spend four years of his life and thousands upon thousands of his parents dollars just to help Monty understand that relationships were a two way street.

 

He considers making a pro-con list but decides against using the paper and pencil and just runs through everything in his head as he lies on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he tossed an old baseball up in the air over and over whilst pretending to himself that he wasn’t watching the clock to make sure he left on time to pick Raven up from the grocery store. The pros of the job are where he decides to start. He thinks about the experience he’ll get and how good it will look on his resume in the years to come. Then there’s the chance for working with others, of the renowned type. There’s potential for not just working on the same ultra-pure gas flows and handling the familiar static controls of the six different OR rooms. There’s chance for growth and development and to become the professional he really wants to be. And that’s all without the master’s degree that he wanted but knew he couldn’t afford.

 

The cons, he thinks, looking over at the clock again. The list was pretty short. Raven. Leaving her wasn’t possible, even with all of the experience and opportunities in the world, right? Losing Raven wasn’t worth gaining a job in a fancy lab.

 

He lets the baseball fall and it smacks him right the face. Yeah, he thinks with a sigh. That seemed about right.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

At first Wick thought that he would never convince Raven to submit to the idea of him helping her with her leg. She’d been steadfast and stubborn and seemingly determined to be an amputee by nineteen. As far as she was concerned there wasn’t a solution in the universe that could allow her to start doing what she needed when it came to her health.

 

When he had presented her with some more papers a couple of nights ago in his living room, this time he put them in a binder, she looked at him with the most murderous glare that he could recall seeing in a while. “What now?” she asks and she sounds equal parts angry and bored.

 

“I found your solution.”

 

She knows what he’s talking about and so she picks up the binder slowly. She flips it open and looks at exactly two pages before slamming it shut. “No.”

 

As if he hadn’t expected that. “Well why not?”

 

“I’m not…” she flips it open again and looks through the first few photos. “I’m not letting you touch my leg.”

 

“I touch your leg all the time,” Wick rolls his eyes because he had literally been massaging it like ten minutes ago. If her brace wasn’t on and they were both sitting, you best believe he was touching her leg.

 

She flinches away at the words. “That’s…different.”

 

“How?” he asks, moving a little bit further into her personal space, pulling the binder from her hands and setting it aside. “What is so different with me helping one way than the other?”

 

She stares off to the side, biting her lip before she answers. “Because massaging it makes it feel better and doing that sort of stuff...” she points to the binder. “It hurts.”

 

Of all the response he had expected, Wick didn’t think to consider she might care about the pain. “And that sucks, Raven, but it hurts every day. Doing this will help it to-“

 

“No, you idiot,” she interrupts with an eye roll. Perhaps he should have known better than assume that it had anything to do with her just wanting to avoid the pain. “I did some of this shit during follow ups with Abby and…it’s me lying on my back and your hands forcing my leg to do stuff it doesn’t know how and tears and…” she fades off and shakes her head and he waits for her to finish because he knows there’s an end to that sentence somewhere. “I don’t want you to see me like that, okay?”

 

When she puts it like that it tugs his heart in a million different ways and all he can think for the thousandth time is how he can’t take that job. “Raven, you know I’m not-“

 

“I know, I know,” she cuts him off again, shaking her head and meeting his eyes. “You’re not judging me, you don’t care, I got it. But it’s still just…Finn had to do everything for me and it made us less friends and more of a caretaker and a patient. I don’t want this to turn into you taking care of me.”

 

He doesn’t ask just what _this_ is though he really wants to know and he doesn’t point out that he doesn’t see the things he does to help her as taking care, but so much as just caring. He just tries to accept her words and not push the issue for one more day because he knew her leg and her mom were the two most sacred topics and if he wasn’t careful she would not hesitate to walk away from a conversation about either.

 

“Well for the record I don’t think Finn just saw you as someone to take care of.” He may have never met the dude and he may also just slightly hate him for the ways he has broken Raven down, but he also knows what Raven Reyes can do to a person and he doesn’t doubt that Finn really did love her through all those years. She had the something about her that just made it impossible not to.

 

Raven bites her lip and then she pulls the binder back from his hands and flips through the pictures he had printed out and the instructions he had found and she says, “Okay.”

 

“Okay, what?” he asks because if she was saying what he thinks she was saying then that was the easiest debate Kyle Wick had ever had against the one and only Raven Reyes.

 

With a stare that says, obviously, she pushes the book back into his hands. “We can try a few of them but the third and sixth pages are definitely out.”

 

He smiles because he knows that he must have said the right thing and that she must trust him in some weird way because of it. “Deal.”

 

\-----------------------------------

 

It’s not an easy process. His living room isn’t that big for one and the cheap carpeting is hardly much padding. There’s quite a few of the exercises that just completely don’t work because she doesn’t have enough strength or feeling or anything in her lower left leg. Some of them they partially get through, like having her push against his hands or rotating her leg based off of the movement of the muscles in her thigh alone. Mostly he just works on stretching and bending and pulling her leg in every way he can for the sake of movement. When he takes her leg and stretches it to the side tears form in her eyes and she bites down on her lip hard enough that he’s surprised he doesn’t see blood.

 

In all actuality Wick comes to realise that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing and Raven is just kind of being a good sport and stumbling along with him. Although when they finish he’s worried he isn’t going to get her to ever do that again. She takes over his bathtub for the next hour and soaks her leg and he worries that he’s done more harm than good.

 

So the next morning when they both get off of work Wick drives Raven home and tells her goodnight and then he drives himself back to the hospital in search of the woman who could help him. As he strolls in to the ER he realises that he doesn’t actually know which portion of the hospital she works in, but he could start here and work his way up. He walks past the registration desk and makes his way to the nurses’ station in the back, his badge helping him through each restricted area. “Do you know if Dr. Griffin is working today?” he asks the secretary who had a phone tucked between her cheek and shoulder and her fingers busy as they placed labels on all of the paperwork spread out around her.

 

“And why are you asking?” she questions in a dry voice, eyes scanning over him for half a second before returning to the task at hand.

 

Well, that was a complicated answer. “Just tell her it’s in regards to Raven Reyes.” He didn’t know if that would be enough to get her attention but he hopes it will.

 

On the one hand he felt kind of bad showing up at her work and pulling her away from the patients who needed her. Only to then corner her about some girl he didn’t technically have any legal rights to ask questions about, but he was a desperate man. He wanted to know what he could do and how he could help her and figuring it out on his own had proven to not be good enough. He can’t just sit back and watch Raven suffer, not when there was still a chance he could help and that she was willing to work with him.

 

It would seem the mention of Raven’s name was indeed enough as it sends Abby in a frenzy towards them, her hair pulled back a little haphazardly and a deep set exhaustion in her eyes. “Where’s Raven?” Dr. Griffin asks the secretary who just points at Wick. He offers her a smile and hopes that he hadn’t done the wrong thing by coming here. “Is she alright?” They’re the words of a concerned friend and with the tone of a worried parent.

 

“She’s fine,” he assures quickly.

 

“And her mom?” she looks around as if in search for a Reyes.

 

That question is a little harder for him to answer with a straight face as he says, “She’s alive.” He leaves it at that. “I need your help, though.”

 

Her eyebrows furrow and she stares at him and shakes her head before looking to the nurse’s station and waving her hand for him to follow her. “I’m assuming you’re here about Raven’s leg,” she sighs as she leads him toward the family waiting room and shuts the door. The room is dimly lit and has nothing but six chairs and a handful of magazines on a table in the corner. “I shouldn’t have said what I did in front of you the other day. That was…unprofessional.”

 

As Wick was an employee at the hospital he had taken his fair share of HIPAA classes and mandatory Healthstream quizzes on the matter. He knows that by unprofessional she means a hit against her licensure if Raven wanted to say something. Which of course she wouldn’t.

 

“I need to know what to do,” he says in a rush. “I tried looking it up on the internet, but it didn’t help much and her leg hurts her so bad. I feel useless and I thought maybe you could help me and-“

 

The doctor holds up a hand, cutting him off. “I’m glad Raven has you for a friend,” is the first thing she says, eyes watching him with curiosity. He wouldn’t blame her for questioning his relationship with Raven. He did the same thing himself, after all. “I’m not a physical therapist, though. There’s a reason I referred Raven to Dr. Robins in the first place. If I could take care of all of Raven’s healthcare needs on my own it would relieve a lot messy hoops I’ve had to jump through first with getting her the surgery she needed and then the follow up care and…her situation is far worse than I expected, isn’t it?”

 

Wick bites his tongue; it isn’t his place to say anything regarding Raven’s living conditions. What the doctor knew was all that was meant for her to know. “It’s not great,” is all he says and she seems to understand his vague answer as she nods her head.

 

“I suppose I shouldn’t have yelled at her,” the woman says as she falls heavily into one of the chairs, burying her face in her hands.

 

Taking a seat next to her Wick answers, “It might have been for the best. She’s all bark and sometimes she needs someone to growl back.” A gentle hand was nice once in a while but sometimes that girl needed a proper shove.

 

Dr. Griffin sighs, wiping her hands on her pants and standing up again. “I’ll call in some favours,” she says, already appearing to mentally calculate who owed her. “Until then, give me your email and I’ll send you some articles that might help you.”

 

“Thank you,” he says with a heavy voice and a bought of gratitude.

 

“After everything she’s been through…she deserves it.” The doctor walks away and all Wick can think is how glad he is to not be the only one thinks that way. For the first time he feels like he isn’t alone in trying to help Raven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I suck at updating right now. School is kicking my ass a little bit but I'm going to keep up with this story a little better. After I get my term paper written things will slow down a bit. Anyways, hope you guys are still reading and enjoying this. I know it's been a seriously slow burn but I swear we're getting somewhere pretty big soon.


	39. Otherwise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Raven is blindsided in more way than one

**Raven’s POV**

Driving school ended up being a bit of a disappointment as far as the whole matter of learning was concerned. “I felt like I was watching an episode of Sesame Street geared towards driving,” Raven says as she hauls herself into Wick’s truck the night after her first class. It’d been tricky getting around her work schedule to take these damn classes, but she’d emailed her supervisor and explained she needed a few hours off for the next couple weeks and it’d been taken care of without any problem as far as she was aware. It would be a bit of a hit financially losing almost two and a half hours of pay for the next two weeks but she’d just have to scrimp a little further. Though that was easier said than done. “Like if this is the basis of education people receive before being allowed to drive it’s no wonder there’re so many idiots on the road.”

 

Wick just laughs at her as he gets on the main road toward the hospital. “We all have to suffer through these classes, Raven. It’s the purgatory you must face before you’re allowed to drive.”

 

“I thought taking lessons from _you_ was punishment enough,” she jokes though in all actuality she’d been enjoying their lessons very much. Over the course of the last few weeks she had gotten comfortable behind the wheel which made Wick increasingly more uncomfortable. So far no major incidence. Although she did hit a curb, but that seemed like a necessary mistake. Dimensions were weird after all. “And with all the money I had to put towards this damn thing…” she fades off but shakes her head in disgust all the same. It had taken four extra shifts at the grocery store to save up enough money for her to spend three hours a night for the next two weeks watching videos made in the 80’s and doing a group project based on the importance of wearing a seat belt.

 

He pulls into the hospital parking lot, driving the car right next to the door and dropping her off for the second time that night. “You don’t need to pick me up in the morning,” she says as an afterthought when she’s already opened the door.

 

“Raven…” he sighs like he knows where this is going.

 

“Not like that,” she smiles. “Octavia is ditching school for her second doctor’s appointment and Lincoln is trying to take his lunch break to meet her there but just in case he can’t, I’m playing back up dad.”

 

With a roll of his eyes he gently shoves her shoulder. “I expect a full arsenal of dad jokes to be used in that case. Now get in there before you lose out on another fifteen minutes of pay.”

 

She glances to the clock at his words and quickly leans across, kissing his cheek and then jumping from the truck without thinking about it too hard. She offers a wave of her hand and disappears inside before there can be any further confrontation. It hadn’t even been intentional, but he does these things and they well up inside of her and she couldn’t get a grip on herself these days. It was frustrating.

 

It’s a bit of a surprise when she walks in to find Jasper and his girlfriend Maya, who was sitting across from him. “What are you doing here?” she asks and he looks as though the same question was about to fall past his lips. She knew when he worked days and when he worked nights and Jasper generally stuck to a very strict schedule because one wrong move and next thing you know you’re working 24 hours straight.

 

“They said they needed coverage for a shift tonight…I picked it up.”  With a sudden flash of worry Raven runs, in her own broken form of a jog, over to Jasper’s side of the desk and starts shoving his chair out of the way. “Watch it!” he says, irritated at her hands that kept batting him out of her way.

 

“No, no, no,” she whispers to herself in sudden realisation as to how her asking for the time off must have been interpreted. Sure enough when she opens her work email she sees the NEEDED HOURS subject line from her supervisor and when she clicks on it there are four night a week for the next two weeks that need a full twelve hours of coverage. That was eight of her shifts totally gone in one fell swoop. “How many of these did you pick up?” she asks Jasper in a hurry as she starts typing furiously on the keyboard. It was a bit late tonight but if she explained what had happened her boss might be willing to retract the email, right? People didn’t even want extra hours! She took all of the extra hours for crying out loud.

 

“Just two, I figured you and Wick were going away on some vacation or something,” he says, hands in the air as he wheels himself a little further back. “Are you…okay?”

 

No, she thinks, because if she doesn’t get her shifts back, every last one of them, that would be two weeks with hardly any pay. That means a rent not paid and food not being in the fridge and their electric being shut off for the fourth time. It meant her mother getting desperate for a fix and inviting all sorts of men over for all sorts of favours in order to get what she wanted. It meant the worst of scenarios and Raven doesn’t know what she is going to do if she doesn’t get it fixed. “I need them back,” she says in a rush, turning to him with a plea in her voice and desperation in her eyes and Maya probably thinks she’s a whack job and hell, maybe Jasper does too, but she didn’t even care. “Tell me I can have this shift back, Jasper.”

 

His eyebrows furrow and his mouth puckers and he says, “Listen, Raven, I get that you need the hours, but I was kinda banking on this already. I went way over my credit card budget and if I don’t pay it off…hey where are you going?”

 

She storms outside and pulls out her phone, realising now how goddamn grateful she was Wick had forced it on her. “Can you come pick me up?” she asks as soon as he answers and she doesn’t mean to be crying because this is _such_ a stupid thing to cry about, but it’s also not and she tries so damn hard to make ends meet and Jasper won’t even give her the next nine and a half fucking hours so she can have something to offer the rent guy or the drug dealer or BGE or whoever comes knocking on their door.

 

“What’s wrong? Raven? Are you okay?” he keeps asking and she doesn’t know how to answer so she swallows down the lump in her throat and puts on a smile for no one to see and answers him.

 

“I’m good, just don’t work tonight. I got my schedule confused I guess.” Of course he knows better, but he just promises to be back in a minute and asks her to wait inside ‘weird people hang out around that hospital’ and then says goodbye.

 

When she hangs up the phone she takes a gulping gasp for air and tries to remind herself that it would be okay. She could find extra hours at the grocery store or ask day shift here if they wanted some time off, everyone always wanted time off. “Hey, Raven,” Jasper says from behind her and she doesn’t mean to jump but it happens anyway. “Listen, I’m really sorry. If you want the shift you can totally have it, okay?”

 

God, she knows he feels bad now and she’s sure he heard the way her voice broke on the phone and now there’s one more friend who knows how weak and helpless she is and she hates it. “It’s alright, Jasper. Wick is on his way back to pick me up.”

 

“No, listen, my credit card bill will still be there next month. And I have Maya here, I could take her on a date instead and you-“

 

She cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. I’ll talk to Donna in the morning and sort everything out. Go back inside.”

 

He doesn’t look convinced but then nods as Wick’s headlights come around the corner. “You can have back the other shift I picked up though, okay?”

 

“Thanks, Jasper,” she says and waves back to him in goodbye.  Wick has already pulled up and thrown the car in park and is halfway over to her before she’s even taken a step towards him. “Where the hell are you going?” she asks but then he’s got her all wrapped up in his arms and she falls against him because sometimes things just did not go her way and it was hard dealing with that over and over. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she reassures him after a minute, pushing against him in a half-hearted attempt to get him off.

 

When he pulls back his hands grasp her shoulders and he stares down in question. “Are you sure? You didn’t sound fine on the phone.”

 

“Can we talk about it in the truck?” she asks and he nods, walking her to her side which isn’t normal and opening the door. “Get in the damn truck, Wick.” She honestly had no patience for him being his occasionally overbearing self right now.

 

If she was in a better state of mind she might ask to drive but her panic keeps coming in waves and she can already feel the headache building behind her eyes and she didn’t know if she had it in her right this second.

 

“What happened?” he asks after a few seconds. He doesn’t drive, just leaves the engine running right there in the fire zone.

 

“It’s fine, let’s go home,” she waves her hand to signal him to drive and reaches forward to turn on the radio because now she felt stupid, calling him with that weakness in her voice like a child. Over something that could be easily fixed. It was nothing to worry about.

 

But he doesn’t move the car and he just keep staring at her expectantly and so she sighs and says, “Fine,” and crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance to the fact that he’s so stubborn about this sort of thing. “I guess my supervisor misunderstood me when I asked for a few hours off on the nights I had school and she gave away my shifts on all those dates for the next two weeks and well…I overreacted a bit.”

 

“Can’t you just…ask for them back?” he asks as his eyebrows draw together and his lips turn down in corners. “Who’s in there now? They wouldn’t give you your shift? It’s your shift!”

 

“No,” she says gently. “It’s not my shift because my supervisor found coverage. And Jasper offered it up but you were already on your way and-“

 

“Whoa, if you want to go work then go and work. I don’t care.”

 

“I know,” she tells him because she does. She could ask him to drive a hundred miles and then turn him around and send him in the other direction and he still wouldn’t care. Maybe that made him a fool but Raven appreciated him for it regardless. “But it’s his. I’ll be fine.” She doesn’t think about the sound the dryer had been making or her dwindling supply of socks. They were getting holes in them faster than she could replace them.

 

With another heavy look thrown her way (it was the unspoken ‘are you sure?’) she waves him on.

 

“Are you really going to be okay?” he asks after only half a mile.

 

Oh good, the new and improved version of ‘are you sure?’ “I’ll figure something out. And I emailed my boss. Whichever of my shifts didn’t get picked up yet I’ll get back for sure.”

 

His finger taps on the steering wheel a few times as he thinks. “I have some money in my account, it’s not really there for any purpose and I know you don’t like handouts but seriously, Raven, if you need something then-“

 

“I’m not taking your money.” She had swallowed a hell of a lot of her pride these last few months by taking his rides and his food and his bed for fuck’s sake. But she couldn’t take his money. “Forget it.”

 

“Think of it as a loan. You can pay me back when you’re NASA’s biggest rocket science.”

 

She smiles for him but it’s sad because his optimism is the sort of thing that ruined her. She couldn’t think like that. Not unless she wanted to be disappointed. “I’ll be okay,” she vows again. Even if she wasn’t, he wouldn’t be the first to find out.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Octavia’s doctor’s office was very different from the sort of connections Raven tended to make when thinking of doctors. The walls were a weird mauve colour and the carpet speckled. A TV played Dr. Oz in the background and there were tired moms and rambunctious kids and dads with eyes somewhere between scared and excited. Here there was not any death or loss, just life and gain. It was weird.

 

“Lincoln’s waiting on someone to get back from break and then he’ll be here,” Octavia says, almost sounding as though she was talking to herself more than Raven. So far her pregnancy had been easy. And yes, it had only just begun at the ten week mark, but she’d seemed pretty lucky so far. Still her hands started to twist in her lap and her foot tapped against the floor.

 

“Nervous?” Raven asks, remembering all of these old quirks and habits from when they were in school together, awaiting a big exam or her waving to a boy across the cafeteria. The only difference is that now Octavia had probably learned to invest in a proper antiperspirant at least.

 

With a shrug of her shoulder she pretends to be nonchalant before reaching out and grabbing Raven’s hand. “I just did this a few weeks ago but still…” she looks around at the big bellied moms and the crying baby in his car seat. “This place is starting to freak me out.”

 

Raven squeezes her hand like Wick so often does for her and Octavia gives it a gentle squeeze back, her other hand going to her stomach. “This still doesn’t feel real,” she says. “Like I already heard its heartbeat and everything a few weeks ago but still…”

 

Things had moved along smoothly, minimal morning sickness, no real weight gain yet, and though she was a bit more scattered in her emotional spectrum it wasn’t anything Raven hadn’t experienced with Octavia’s pms in the past. She was sure Lincoln got the joy of dealing with her in her more fragile states. “And Lincoln is trying so hard to be here, but he couldn’t turn down that shift right now…”

 

“He’ll be here soon and everything will be fine,” she reassures the best she can. Quite frankly she was ready to bust out of this place as soon as possible but she was putting in some genuine effort to support her friend the best she could.

 

“Distract me,” Octavia says, turning in her seat to face Raven more fully. “Tell me about what’s going on right now.”

 

There was so much and yet so little. For the first time in ages Raven felt like things had almost settled, like her world couldn’t be thrown apart at any given moment. Maybe it was the normalcy of a schedule she’d fallen into with her sleeping and eating, and maybe it was the stability she had managed to find in Wick. Regardless, she doesn’t think much of it as she shrugs a shoulder. “Things are good. I started driving school.” A part of her knew that things couldn’t stay this easy and simple for long, but for once she longed to just be ignorant.  “It’s awful.”

 

Octavia laughs for a second. “Oh my god isn’t it? When I went there was this girl who made her poor boyfriend coordinate his outfit to hers every night. I was frightened for his wellbeing. What’s next though? Are you going to buy a car?”

 

It sometimes astounded Raven how oblivious her friends were to her financial struggles. It wasn’t something that should surprise her necessarily, considering the lengths she went to hide it, but it did anyway. That didn’t mean she wanted anyone to know though, so she fights off the instinct to laugh in Octavia’s face. “Something like that.” She already had plans to start scavenging some junk yards. Sure she needed a frame and a basic body for the car but from there she could take care of the rest herself.

 

“Octavia Blake,” the nursing assistant calls out.

 

Octavia stands, dropping Raven’s hand and following the woman back to get her weight and blood pressure taken. She changes into a gown after they’re left alone and sits at the end of the paper covered table, twisting one of the stirrups back and forth. “Do you think anyone’s ever given birth in here?” she asks.

 

“Ew,” Raven says out of instinct, shaking her head. “I really hope not.” The concept of birth was hardly welcome. As much as she loved Octavia she would not be going near a delivery room until the baby was out, cleaned, and dressed.

 

She shifts to her good leg, trying to ignore the tingles she felt throughout the bad one. Perhaps it was denial that was allowing her to be so certain that things were good and steady for once. Ignorance was only bliss until someone lost a limb.

 

“So you slept at Wick’s last night.” Octavia states as though it is a completely innocent comment. Raven had been waiting for her to bring it up whilst simultaneously hoping she just wouldn’t.

 

“Shouldn’t this be a time of reflection or you? Thinking about your unborn child and the miracle of childbirth and that sort of shit?” The stare she gets in return lets Raven know the answer. More distractions were in order for Octavia and what could be better than prying into her friend’s non-existent love life. “He picked me up since I didn’t work and I wasn’t about to make him drive me all the way home.”

 

“You live three miles away from him,” Octavia dead pans, one eyebrow raised. “Just admit it. You wanted to sleepover at his place.” If only she knew how frequent that whole sleepover thing tended to happen. If she wasn’t so adamant about not dating him, Raven would be pretty sure that she was already dating him. “Are you seriously not sleeping with him?”

 

She was sleeping _next_ to him. Though she had a feeling she would get more flak from that statement than anything else. “We’re friends,” she says for what feels like the thousandth time. “I don’t want anything more from him.”

 

“You totally do!” Octavia argues, hands flying out to her sides. “You have feelings for him and you’re afraid of them so you won’t just admit it. So in the process you’re leaving this great guy who is completely in love with you sad and alone because you’re too scared to face your feelings.”

 

“Well at least I don’t have to push something the size of a cantaloupe out of my vagina!” Raven shoots back, feeling properly twelve again.

 

Octavia bites her lip and looks up to the far too specific diagram on the wall at Raven’s words. “You’re supposed to be distracting me,” she mumbles, crossing her legs at the reminder she’d just received.

 

The door swings open before Raven has the chance to apologise and she takes her dutiful position next to Octavia who glances at her phone again, checking for anymore texts from Lincoln no doubt. “It’s good to see you again, Octavia,” the doctor says with a kind smile, as she takes a seat across from both of them. “How are things going? Any morning sickness? Bleeding? Discharge?”

 

“Um, a little sick for a few days but nothing bad and some discharge but no blood.” She repositions on the table, the paper crinkling beneath her. “That’s normal, right?”

 

The doctor nods, typing into the laptop she had opened in the room. “Nothing to be worried about,” she promises. “Are you okay with your friend being here as we get started?” she asks as she nods in Raven’s direction.

 

Octavia nods and even though Raven is the one standing off to the side fully clothed, her heart rate still kicks up a little. Babies were scary. Weird wands and gels and machines were also scary. This whole process was terrifying and freaking her out in ways she didn’t even know she could still be scared through.

 

Once Octavia’s laid back and positioned Raven makes a point to stand by her friend’s head, completely avoiding anything that might be going on beyond her waist. Thankfully the doctor made use of a bit of a privacy sheet. She holds Octavia’s hand as the doctor starts and shifts between her good and bad leg every few seconds as lesser pleasant things go down aside from a straight ultrasound.

 

By the time they get to the point where the doctor is squirting cold jelly on Octavia’s stomach Raven is definitely feeling a bit light headed. Noises are a little further away and she misses most of the conversation the doctor and Octavia have.

 

The next thing she knows there’s the shittiest quality of a picture she had ever seen popping up on the screen followed by a rushing, gurgling sound filling the room. Octavia’s face immediately breaks out in a smile and Raven understands for the first time why anyone might consider this whole process the least bit worth it. “Wow,” she says because she keeps forcing herself to acknowledge the reality of the situation but she simultaneously hadn’t completely grappled with the fact that her friend was creating actual life.

 

Lincoln comes bursting through the door a minute later and Raven does not miss the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead or the relief that crosses over his face. “I might have accidentally just walked in the wrong exam room,” he admits and makes Octavia break into loud, raucous laughs, her stomach shaking against the wand.

 

But then Raven steps away and Lincoln takes her place, grabbing Octavia’s hand and matching her smile as they both stare at what was essentially nothing in black and grey on the screen before them.

 

They’re together and happy and completely in awe with what is happening and Raven’s eyes feel a bit wetter and her heart a little fuller at getting to see her friend so filled with joy.

 

She excuses herself from the room, taking a deep breath once she’s stepped outside. Their future was scary and uncertain and the last thing Raven could ever even imagine taking on. But she commends them both on how ready they are to step foot in the territory. Without a shadow of a doubt she knows everything is going to be okay for them. It’s the sort of reassurance she isn’t familiar with.

 

\----------------------------------------------

 

“It was easily the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Raven reports back from the ER registration desk the following night. Though she had never actually been trained in the whole ER business, she looked at the same screens every night as she admitted patients, it couldn’t be that hard to pick up on. So when she saw they had a call out for that very night she was quick to pick it up.

 

There was a fair bit more walking with this job and it kept her far busier than admitting ever managed to. Her leg killed after so long without much rest or reprieve, but she sucked it up and reminded herself to be grateful for the hours.

 

Wick hovers in front of her desk. Most patients had been registered and put back into rooms, no else having walked in for over an hour now. Were it not for the co-worker who joined her down here Raven might just consider taking her brace off tonight.

 

Oh well, she thinks as she tries to dig her fingers into it. Wick would massage it once they got home anyway.

 

“Did Raven Reyes get freaked out by the concept of a tiny human?” he teases, leering closer and challenging her with a look deep set in his eyes.

 

She doesn’t even bother acknowledging his claim, rolling her eyes and going back to her task of scanning in signature sheets. “I’m just saying the whole process is weird and…unnatural.” He laughs and she knows it’s because it was in fact like the most natural thing ever. “Shut up.”

 

His gaze settles over her in a way that she never quite got used to. His eyes fell across her and a just there smile would find his lips as he watched her. Over the last few days she had noticed it more frequently and it made her skin prickle and fingers busy themselves in whatever way they could. She wasn’t used to being watched, and Wick observed her very presence.

 

“You’d be proud of me though,” she says to distract him. “Octavia asked me if I was hungry after the appointment.”

 

Wick smiles and she shakes her head because he was so ridiculous but also because she loved it so much. “You made a dad joke, didn’t you?” She nods and he puts hand to his chest in a mockingly touched manner.  She thinks of all of the dad jokes he will tell one day and tries not to hate the way she’s reminded of the fact that some woman other than her would be shaking her head at each and every one. “I’ve never been prouder.”

 

“Good,” she says quietly, forgetting about the future and trying to remember what she loved so much about the now.  Maybe it was his dorky smile and maybe it was that look he kept giving her and maybe it was the fact that if she wanted, if she let herself, the now could turn into her future. Wick was steady and sure and somehow his presence had become a given. She didn’t take it for granted, and it was hard to delude herself into believing it could last forever, but every once in a while when she was tired enough and her leg hurt enough she entertained the idea in the back of her mind.

 

Wick was hers right now. And that might not be enough to make him hers forever, but the way he looked at her was sometimes just enough to convince her otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I don't even remember the last time I posted. The last few weeks are just a complete blur. But I have officially finished my first seven week term of the semester and pulled of A's in my classes! So now onward to the next seven weeks, but first I have a weekend off and a chance to at least update. Seriously, sorry for the wait and thank you for still commenting and all. I promise to respond soon! I'm going to do my best to improve with the updates a bit. I have another three chapters written after this, it's just a matter of editing and such so fingers crossed I can pull that off over the next couple of days! Hope you're all well :)


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